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CO' 



MEMOIRS 

OF 

MADAME D'ARBLAY, 

AUTHOR OF " EVELINA," " CECILIA," ETC. 



COMPILED FTIOM 



HER VOLUMINOUS DIARIES AND LETTERS, 

AND FROM OTHER SOURCES. 

• BY MRS HELEN BERKELEY, 

AUTHOR OF " THE FORTUNE HUNTER," ETC. 
tni>. VOL. I. 



.TAMES MOWATT & CO. 174 BROADWAY, 

CORNER OF MAIDEN LANE. 
SOLD BY ALL PERIODICAL AGENTS AND BOOKSELLERS. 

1844. 



' fi r" ^"i *«^ ^ 



[Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, by 
James Mowatt & Co., in the Clerk's office of the District Court of 
the Southern District of the state ot New- York ] 



Douglas, Typographer, 34 Ann St. 

HoBBS, Stereotyper, 111 Fulton St. 

Bedford, Printer, 13S Fulton St. 



PREFACE. 

" The Diary and Lettei's of Madame D'Arblay/* 
edited by her Niece, have been presented to the pub- 
lic in so unwieldy and voluminous a form, made tedi- 
ous by so many details that are foreign and uninter- 
esting, that we cannot hesitate to believe that an at- 
tempt to separate the gold from the dross, the really 
valuable facts embodied in the naiTative from the triv- 
ial and dull, will be indulgently received. 

The contemporary and friend of Johnson, Burke, 
Horace Walpole, and other master-spirits of English 
literature, the life of the " author of Evelina" presents 
the most ample materials for an entertaining and deep- 
ly instructive biography. We have endeavoured to 
avail ourselves of them in a manner the most accept- 
able to readers of taste ; omitting no incident of im- 
portance, but avoiding all that seemed in-evelant and 
unattractive. 

The present work will be found to contain much 
that has never before been published in this country j 
while care has been taken to include all that seemed 
worthy of preservation in the " Diary and Letters" of 
Madame D'Arblay, the expensive character of which 
publication has rendered it a sealed book to the great 
majority of American readers. 

New York, March, 1844, 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter I. 

Birth of Frances Burney— Remarkable feature of her childhood-l- 
imitation of the Actors — Dr. Barney's opinion of her — The flaxen 
wig — Death of Mrs. Burney — Self Education — Dissimilarity of 
Fanny to her sisters — Dr. Burney's second marriage — Mr. Crisp — 
The Cabin — Fanny's secret authorship. — The Conflagration. 
History of Caroline Evelyn, mother of Evelina — Dr. Bmney's tour. 
His illness. — '' Evelina." — Secret arrangements with a bookseller. 
The arrival — Mr. Lowndes's offer for the manuscript of ^' Evelina" 
— Character of Miss Burney— The Journal. 11—25. 

Chapter IL 

Publication ot Evelina — Its Design and Objects — Secrecy — Critique 
on Evelina — Mr, Crisp — " Evelina" read by Dr. Burney — His dis- 
covery of its Author — Mr. Cholmondeley and Mrs. Thrale — In- 
vitation from Mrs. Thrale— Dr. Burney's delig-ht— Mr, Crisp dis- 
covers the Author of Evelina — Visit to Streathara — Mrs, Thrale's 
Reception — Introduction to Dr. Johnson — His reason for not eat- 
ing Mutton on the day that he became acquainted with Miss Bur- 
ney. 25—33. 

Chapter III. 

Miss Burney a constant Visitor at Streatham — Dr. Johnson's free- 
dom in condemnmg what he dislikes — His first allusion to '' Eve- 
lina" — Dr. Goldsmith and the " Good-natured Man" — The cha- 
racter of Croaker stolen from Dr. Johnson — Dr. Johnson's Opinion 
of the " Vicar of Wakefield" — His Repugnance to the Scotch Na- 
tion. — His fastidiousness about the Dress of Ladies — He pronoun- 
ces " Evelina" superior to Fielding's works — Miss Burney be- 
comes acquainted with Mrs. Montague — An Amusing Incident — 
Dr. Johnson and Miss Burney. 33 — 40. 

Chapter IV» 

Miss Burney's visit from Dr, Frankhn — Miss Burney and Sir Joshua 
Reynolds — ** Dear little Burney" — Miss Burney's annoyance at the 
appearance of her Name in print — Her Acquaintance with Mr. 
and Mrs. Sheridan — Personal Appearance of Sheridan — His men- 
tion of* Evelina" — " The writings" — Dr. Burney's condemnation 
of his Daughter's Comedy — The beautiful humility of her reply — 
Mr. Crisp's objection — Dr. Johnson instructs Miss Bm-ney in La-- 
tin — Incident at an Inn — Sir Thomas Lawrence in his childhood — - 
Mrs. Byron. 40 — i8 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Chapter V. 

Death of Mr. Thrale — Miss Burney's Letter to his Widow — " Ce- 
cilia" — Fears for its Success— 'Dr. Buraey's Opinion — Enthusias- 
tic reception of " Cecilia" — Complimentary Letter of the Hon- 
ourable Edmund Burke — Mrs. Siddons — Mrs. Garrick — Mrs. Cha- 
pone — Horace Walpole — xMrs. Delany — Duchess of Portland- 
Death of Mr. Crisp — Dr. Johnson seized with a paralytic Stroke- 
His Latin Prayer — Miss Burney's Visit to Him. — Presiding at 
his Breakfast Table. 48—55. 

Chapter VI. 

Miss Burney's friendship for Mrs. Thrale threatened with an inter- 
ruption — Miss Burney's defence of her Friend — Mrs. Thrale's Let- 
ter and Visit — Tiie last meeting — Mrs. Thrale's Marriage with-- 
Piozzi — Letters between her and Miss Burney — An unanswered let- 
ter—The friendship of six years at an end — Dr. Johnson's illness 
— Affecting interview with Miss Burney — Recovery — His last ill- 
ness — Anecdote of the Coffins— Dr. Johnson's last hours and death. 

65 — 65. 

Chapter VII. 

Miss Burney's acquaintance v/ith Madame de Genlis — Madame de 
Genlis's note — Mrs. Delany — The Queen's loom, and the King's 
gold knitting-needle— Death of the Duchess Dowager of Portland, 
Mrs. Delauy's grief, and Miss Burney's consolatory attentions — 
Kindness of King George and Queen Charlotte -to Mrs. Delany — 
The two dried leaves — Mrs. Delany's house at Windsor — Project- 
ed visit of the Princesses to Mis3 Burney — The King and Queen's 
mention of her — Miss Burney at Windsor — Queen Charlotte rc- 
peruses " Cecilia" — Mrs. Delany's injunctions to Miss Burney 
respecting the Royal Family — Miss Burney's first interview with 
the King and Queen — Puss in the corner — Cross-questioning — Cha- 
racter of the King and Queen — Their affection for each other — 
Miss Burnev's second interview 65—84. 

Chapter VIII. 

A vacancy in the Royal household— The office of Keeper of the 
Robes is offered by the Queen to Miss Burney — Her deliberation, 
disinclination, but final acceptance — Arrival at Windsor— Recep- 
tion by the Queen— Fears and heart-aches — Account of Miss 
Burney's mode of life at Court— An attempt upon the life of the 
King— Grief and horror of the royal family — Noble conduct of 
King George. 84—96. 

Chapter IX. 

Miss Burney's unfortunate timidity— Reading to the Queen— Ma- 
dame de Genlis— Mrs. Delany's ad/ice— The Queen's opinion on the 
subject of an intimacy with Madame de Genlis— The '' great coat" 
—Miss Buraey's Stanzas— Singular mode of presenting them— The 
Queen's ackno wledgmenis— Condescension mingled with humility. 

98—101. 



CONTENTS. IX 

Chapter X. 

Application from the publishers of " Cecilia " —Letter from Mrs, 
Leinman to the authoress of "Cecilia" — A threatened attempt 
at Suicide — Dr. Burney at Court— His singular non-observance of 
Court etiquette — The King's good-humour— Visit to Dr. Herschel 
— Comment of the Princess Amelia upon Dr. Burney's looks — The 
New Year — West's- picture of the Resurrection — The King's offer- 
ing — The Bishop of Worcester — Visit from Mr. West — His enthu- 
siasm — Dr. Burney's poem on the Queen's birthday — His daugh- 
ter's mode of presenting it— The Ball— An unexpected dilemma — 
The young Clergyman and the chairman. 101 — 118. 

Chnpter XI. 

Travelling to Windsor with Mr. Turbulent— Discussion— Religion 
and Morality — The Queen's opinion of Mr Turbulent — The young 
Clergyman again— Josephus— Mr, Turbulent and the Princess 
Augusta — La Coquette Corrigee — The Queen studyhig Botany — 
The Drama of" Seduction " — An allusion in the epilogue to the 
Author of "Cecilia" — The King's enjoyment of Miss Burney's 
Confusion — S)Tnpathy of the Princesses — Mrs. Piozzi's return to 
England. 118—131, 

Chapter XII. 

A visit from Dr. Beattie— Return of the Duke of York— Joy of 
the Royal Family — Mrs, Siddons engaged to read a play at the 
Pedace — Miss Burney her entertainer — Her Opinion of Mrs. Sid- 
dons — Visit to Dr. Herschel — His sister — Her character and ap- 
pearance — Their mode of working together — The Telescope. 

AIX HaiavH3 131—136. 

Chapter XIII, 

An eventful year— Death of Mrs. Delany — Her last words— Mrs. De- 
lany's niece — Trial of Hasting's — Decline of the King's health — 
Alarm of the Royal Family — Insanity of the King — Scene at Din- 
ner—Confusion and Dismay of the Household— Desolate condi- 
tion of the Queen, 136—143, 



MEMOIRS OF MADAME D'ARBLAY. 



CHAPTER I. 

Birth of Frances Bumey— Remarkable feature of her childhood — 
Imitation of the Actors — Dr. Burney's opinion of her — The flaxen 
wig — Death of Mrs. Burney — Selt Education — Dissimilarity of 
Fanny to her sisters — Dr. Burney's second marriage — Mr. Crisp — 
The Cabin — Fanny's secret authorship. — The Conflagration. 
History of Caroline Evelyn, mother of Evelina — Dr. Burney's tour. 
His illness. — '^ Evelina.'' — Secret arrangements with a bookseller. 
The arrival — Mr. LoAvndes's ofier for the manuscript of" EveUna" 
— Character of Miss Burney — The Journal. 

Frances Burney, the second daughter and third 
child of Dr. Burney, was born at Lynn Regis in Nor- 
folk, on the 13th of June. 1752. Her father had in 
the preceding year accepted the office of Organist to 
that royal borough, having been obliged by ill health 
to quit London, and to rehnquish more advantageous 
prospects. 

The most remarkable features of Frances Burney's 
childhood were, her extreme shyness, and her back- 
wardness at learning ; at eight years of age, she did 
not even know her letters, and her elder brother used 
to amuse himself by pretending to teach her to read, 
and presenting the book to her turned upside down, — 
which he declared she never found out. Her mo- 
ther's friends generally gave her the name of " the 
little dunce ;" but her mother, more discerning as well 
as more indulgent, always replied, that " she had no 
fear about Fanny. ^^ 

In fact, beneath an appearance so unpromi ing to 



12 MEMOIRS OF 

cursory observers, there was an under-current, nd^ 
only of deep feeling and affection, but of shrewd ob- 
servation and lively invention; though the feelings 
were rarely called forth in the happy careless course 
of childish life, and the intellectual powers were con- 
cealed by shyness, except when her own individuality 
were forgotten in the zest with which she would enact 
other personages, in the little sports and gambols she 
invented. Her father relates, that " she used, after 
having seen a play in Mrs. Garrick's box, to take the 
actors off, and compose speeches for their characters, 
for she could not read them. But in company, or be- 
fore strangers, she was silent, backward, and timid, 
even to sheepishness ; and from her shyness, had such 
profound gravity and composure of features, that those 
of Dr. Burney's friends who went often to his house, 
and entered into the different humours of the children, 
never called Fanny by any other name, from the time 
she had reached her eleventh year, than "the old 
lady." 

Dr. Burney adds, "she had always a great affection 
for me ; had an excellent heart, and a natural simpli- 
city and probity about her that wanted no teaching. 
In her plays with her sisters and some neighbours' 
children, tliis straightforward morality operated to an 
uncommon degree in one so young. There lived next 
door to me at that time in Poland Street, and in a 
private house, a capital hair-merchant, who furnished 
perukes to the judges and gentlemen of the law. 
The hair-merchant's female children and mine 
used to play together in the little garden be- 
hind the house, and unfortunately, one day, the door 
of the wig-magazine being left open, they each of 
them put on one of those dignified ornaments of the 
head, and danced and jumped about in a thousand 
antics, laughing till they screamed, at their own ridi- 
culous figures. Unfortunately, in their vagaries, one 



13 

of the flaxen wigs, said by the proprietor to be worth 
upwards of ten guineas [in those days an enormous 
price], fell into a tub of water placed for shrubs in the 
little garden, and lost all its gorgon buckle, and was 
declared by the owner to be totally spoilt. He was 
extremely angiy, and chid very severely his own chil- 
dren ; w^hen my little daughter, ' the old lady,' then 
ten years or age, advancing to him, as I was informed, 
with great gravity and composure, sedately said, 
' What signifies talking so much about an accident ?, 
The wig is wet, to be sure ; and the wig was a good 
wig, to be sure ; but 'tis of no use to speak of it any 
more, because whafs done canH be undone.' 

"Whether these stoical sentiments appeased the en- 
raged perruquier, I know not ; but the younkers were 
stript of their honours, and my little monkeys were 
obliged to retreat without beat of drum or colours fly- 
ing." 

Mrs. Burney was well qualified to instruct and train 
her numerous family ; but they lost her early, and her 
chief attention appears to have been bestowed on the 
education of her eldest daughter, Esther, w^ith whom 
she read all Pope's'w^orks, and Pitt's ^Eneid ; while 
the silent, observant Fanny learnt by heart passages 
from Pope, merely from hearing her sister recite them, 
and long before she cared for reading them herself. 

In the year 1760, Dr. Burney returned to London 
with his wife and children, and took a house in Poland 
Street, where he renewed, under happy auspices, the 
acquaintance which, during his former residence in 
London, he had made with several of the most distin- 
guished literary characters of his day. At this period 
his eldest son James, afterwards Admiral Burney, had 
been sent to sea as a midshipman, in the ship of Ad- 
miral Montagu ; his second son, Charles, afterwards 
the celebrated Greek scholar, was still quite a child ; 
and his fourth daughter, Charlotte, was an infant. 

B 



14 MEMOIKS OF 

From this young family, for whom maternal care 
appeared so necessary, their affectionate mother was 
removed by death in the autumn of 1761.. During 
the latter period of her illness, Frances and her sister 
Susanna had been placed in a boarding-school in 
Queen Square, that they might be out of the way ; 
and when the sad intelligence of their loss was 
brought to them, the agony of Frances's grief was so 
great, though she was not more than nine years old, 
that her governess declared she had not met with a 
child of such intense and acute feelings. 

The bereaved father soon recalled his children 
home, and their education carried itself on, rather 
than owed its progress to any regular instruction. Dr. 
Burney was too much occupied by his professional 
engagements to teach them, except by his own exam- 
ple of industry and perseverance. These were so 
great that he actually studied and acquired the French 
and Italian languages on horseback ; having for that 
purpose written out a pocket-grammar and vocabu- 
lary of each. 

His son Charles was, at a proper age, sent to the 
Charter-House School, but his daughters remained at 
home ; they had no governess, and though the eldest 
and the third, Esther and Susanna, were subsequently 
taken to France, and placed for two years in a Parisian 
seminary, Frances shared not this advantage. Dr. 
Burney afterwards acknowledged that one reason 
which decided him against carrying her to France was 
her strong attachment to her maternal gi'andmother, 
who was a Roman Catholic. He " feared she might 
be induced to follow the religion of one she so much 
loved and honoured, if she should fall so early into the 
hands of any zealots who should attempt her conver- 
sion." She was, therefore, literally self-educated, and 
to use her own words, her " sole emulation for im- 
provement, and sole spur for exertion, w^ere her un- 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 15 

bounded veneration and alFection for her father, who, 
nevertheless, had not at the time a moment to spare 
for giving her any personal instruction, or even for 
directing her pursuits." 

At ten years of age she could read, and with the 
occasional assistance of her eldest sister she had taught 
herself to write ; and no sooner had she acquired the 
latter accomplishment than she began to scribble, al- 
most incessantly, little poems and works of invention, 
though in a character that was illegible to every one 
but herself. Her love of reading did not display itself 
till two or three years later ; thus practically reversing 
the axiom that 

mm " Authors before they write should read." 

But although the education of Dr, Burney's daugh- 
ters was not conducted according to the elaborate 
systems of the present day, they yet enjoyed some 
advantages which more than compensated for the ab- 
sence of regular and salaried instructors. The senti- 
ments and example of their father excited them to 
love whatever was upright, virtuous, and amiable ; 
while, from not being secluded in a school-room, they 
also shared the conversation of their father's guests ; 
and, in London, Dr. Burney's miscellaneous but agree- 
able society included some of the most eminent for 
literature in our own country, together with many 
accomplished foreigners, whose observations and criti- 
cisms were in themselves lessons. Perhaps the taste 
of Frances Burney was formed much in the same way 
as that of her celebrated contemporary, Madame de 
Stael, who relates that she used to sit with her work, 
on a little stool at her mother's knee, and listen to 
the conversation of all Monsieur Neckar's enhghtened 
visitors ; thus gathering notions on literature and poli- 
tics long ere it was suspected that she knew the mean- 
ing of the words. 



16 MEMOIRS OF 

If, however, the above methods were of themselves 
sufficient for education, all good conversers might 
offer a " royal road" to learning. But the benefit 
here obtained was chiefly that of directing the atten- 
tion to intellectual pursuits, enlightening the judg- 
ment, and exciting a thirst for knowledge, which led 
the youthful Frances to diligent and laborious appli- 
cation. By the time she was fourteen she had care- 
fully studied many of the best authors in her father's 
library, of which she had the uncontrolled range. She 
began also to make extracts, keeping a catalogue rai- 
sonne of the books she read ; and some of her early 
remarks were such as would not have disgraced a 
maturer judgment. 

Thus passed, not idly nor unprofitably, nearly six 
years after the death of that mother who would have 
been her best instructress. Dr. Burney then made 
another journey to Paris, for the purpose of conduct- 
ing home his daughters, Esther and Susanna, whose 
allotted two years' of education in that capital had 
expired. Their improvement had kept pace with their 
father's hopes and wishes, but he gave up his original 
plan of carrying Frances and Charlotte abroad on the 
return of their sister : Susanna volunteered to instruct 
"Fanny in French ; and they were all so enchanted to 
meet again, that perhaps Dr. Burney's parental kind- 
ness withheld him from proposing a new separation. 

On the first return of the youthful travellers, Su- 
sanna, who was then scarcely fourteen, wrote a sort 
of comparison between her two elder sisters, which, 
as it happens to have been preserved, and may in 
some measure illustrate their early characters, we will 
give verbatim. 

" Hetty seems a good deal more lively than she 
used to appear at Paris ; whether it is that her spirits 
are better, or that the great liveliness of the inhabit- 
ants made her appear grave there by comparison, I 



17 

know not : but she was there remarkable for being 
serieuse, and is here for being gay and lively. She is 
a most sweet girl. My sister Fanny is unlike her in 
almost every thing, yet both are very amiable, and 
love each other as sincerely as ever sisters did. The 
characteristics of Hetty seem to be wit, generosity, 
and openness of heart : Fanny's — sense, sensibility, 
and bashfulness, and even a degree of prudery. Her 
understanding is superior, but her diffidence gives her 
a bashfulness before company With whom she is not 
intimate. Which is a disadvantage to her. My eldest 
sister shines in conversation, because, though very 
modest, she is totally free from any mauvaise honte : 
were Fanny equally so, I am persuaded she would 
shine no less. I am afraid that my eldest sister is too 
communicative, and that my sister Fanny is too re- 
served. They are both charming girls, — -des filles 
comrne il y ena pen." 

Very soon after his return from Paris, an important 
change took place in Dr. Burney's domestic circle, 
by forming a second matrimonial connection, and 
bringing home to his family as their mother-in-law, 
Mrs. Stephen Allen, the widow of a Lynn merchant, 
and herself the parent of several children who had 
been friends and playmates Of the young Burneys. 
Both families were pleased at this reunion ; a larger 
house Was taken, in Queen Square, that they might 
all reside under the same roof, — although this dwell- 
ing was afterwards exchanged for a house in St. Mar- 
tin's Street ; and the new Mrs. Burney, who Was her- 
self highly intellectual, entered with intelligent de- 
light into the hterary circle which formed the solace 
and refreshment of her husband. 

Among those friends who were accustomed to as- 
semble rouud their tea-table, or to enliven their simple 
early supper, were Sir Robert and Lady Strange, — • 
the former so well known for his admirable engrav-i 



18 = MEMOIRS OF 

ings, and his lady for her strong sense and original 
humour ; Dr. Hawkesworth, the worthy and learned 
Editor of Byron's and Cooke's First Voyages ; Gar- 
rick, and his amiable wife, the friend of Hannah 
More ; Barry, the Painter, whose works still adorn 
the Adelphi ; Mr. Twining, the Translator of Aristo- 
tle ; Mason, the Poet ; Mr. Greville, and his Lady, the 
latter celebrated as the Authoress of the beautiful 
" Ode to Indifference ;" Dr. Armstrong ; Arthur 
Young, the Agriculturist, who had married a sister of 
Mrs. Burney's ; John Hutton, the Moravian ; the musi- 
cal and clever La Trobe, and Nollekens the Sculptor. 
To these might be added many others of equal or su- 
perior celebrity, who formed part of Dr. Burney's 
society, as time and circumstances brought them with- 
in his reach. 

But the companion and counsellor who was dearest 
to himself, and most loved and honoured by his youth- 
ful group, was Mr. Crisp. This gentleman, several 
years older than Dr. Burney, had been to him a 
" Guide, Pilosopher, and Friend," in early life ; they 
had then separated in consequence of Mr. Crisp's re- 
siding on the continent during several years, but when 
they again met, their intimacy was renewed with a 
cordiality and delight that only ended with life. 

At this time Mr. Crisp had given up the world, in 
consequence of various losses, diminished fortune, and 
disappointed hopes ; and he had fixed his dwelling in 
an old-fashioned country-house, called Chesington 
Hall, not far from Kingston in Surrey, and within a 
a few miles of Hampton. This mansion stood upon 
a large and nearly desolate common, and not a road 
or even a track led to it from Epsom, which was the 
nearest town. It was encircled by ploughed fields, 
and one-half of the building was inhabited by a far- 
mer ; while in the remaining portion dwelt the pro- 
prietor, Christopher Hamilton, Esq., with whom Mr. 



ARBLAY. 1& 

Crisp had adopted some pic-nic plan, which enabled 
him to consider Chesington as his decided residence. 
At the death of Mr. Hamilton, the house, which was 
then his only property, devolved to his maiden sister, 
Mrs. Hamilton, who, with her niece, Miss Kitty 
Cooke, continued to receive Mr. Crisp as an inmate, 
and to admit other persons as occasional boarders. 

This independent method of visiting his friend, and 
of obtaining country air and exercise for his children, 
exactly suited the views of Dr. Burney, and they all 
in turn, or in groups, enjoyed the society of their Ches* 
ington Daddy, as they familiarly called Mr. Crisp ; 
while he was indulgent to all their youthful vagaries, 
and amused with observing their different characters. 

Among those who most frequently availed them- 
selves of Mrs. Hamilton's arrangement, was Mrs. Gast, 
the sister of Mr. Crisp, who, whenever she quitted 
her house at Burford, in order to visit her brother, 
failed not to enhance the pleasure of the Chesington 
meetings by her good sense and kind nature, added to 
a considerable degree of cultivation. 

But whatever might offer itself of occupation or 
amusement, Fanny continued secretly, yet persever- 
ingly, her own literary attempts. When in London, 
she used to write in a little play-room up two pair of 
stairs, which contained the toys of the younger chil- 
dren. At Lynn, to which place the Doctor's family 
paid annual visits, she would shut herself up in a sum- 
mer-house which they called The Cabin, and there 
unburden her mind, by writing the tales and composi- 
tions with which her fancy abounded. 

To none but her sister Susanna was the secret of 
this authorship confided ; and even she could seldom 
hear or read those productions, for w^ant of private 
opportunities by which she might avoid betraying 
them to others. 

Notwithstanding all these precautions, the vigilant 



^0 MEMOIRS OF 

eye of their mother-in-law was not long in discovering 
Fanny's love of seclusion, her scraps of writing, and 
other tokens of her favourite employment, which ex- 
cited no small alarm in her. 

Perhaps if she had desired to see the little manu- 
scripts she might have perceived in them traces of 
genius worth encouraging ; but while her delicacy 
prevented such investigation, her good sense, acting 
upon general principles, led her to inveigh very fre- 
quentl}- and seriously against the evil of a scribbling 
turn in young ladies — the loss of time, the waste or 
thought, in idle, crude inventions — -and the (at that 
time) utter discredit of being known as a female wri- 
ter of novels and romances. 

Whatever conviction these strictures may have pro- 
duced, they at least so wrought upon Fanny's sense 
of duty and obedience, that she resolved to make an 
auto da fe of all her manuscripts, and, if possible, to 
throw away her pen. Seizing, therefore, an oppor- 
tunity when Dr. and Mrs. Burney were from home, 
she made over to a bonfire in a paved play-court, her 
whole stock of prose compositions, while her faithful 
Susanna stood by, weeping at the conflagration. 
Among the Works thus immolated, wets one tale of 
considerable length, the "History of Caroline Evelyn,'^ 
the mother of Evelina. 

This sacrifice was made! in the young authoress's 
fifteenth year, and for some weeks she probably adher- 
ed to her resolution of composing no more works of 
fiction, and began, perhaps as a less objectional em- 
ployment, the Journal which she continued during so 
many years. But the perennial fountain could not be 
restrained ; her imagination was haunted by the singu- 
lar situations to which Caroline Evelyn's infant 
daughter might be exposed, from the unequal birth by 
which she hung suspended between the elegant con- 
nections of her mr^^her, and the vulgar ones of her 



21 

grandmother ; thus presenting contrasts and mixtures 
of society so unusual, yet, under the supposed circum- 
stances, so natural, that irresistibly, and almost uncon- 
sciously, the whole story of " Evelina ; or, A Young 
Lady's Entrance into the World," was pent up in the 
inventor's memory, ere a paragraph was committed to 
paper. 

Writing was to her always more difficult than com- 
posing, because her time and her pen found ample 
employment in transcribing for her father, who was 
occupied at every spare moment with preparations for 
his great work, " The General History of Music." 

In the summer of 1770, Fanny obtained several 
months of leisure for her own studies and compositions, 
as Dr. Burney then set out on a solitary tour through 
France and Italy, for the purpose of collecting mate- 
rials for his " History ;" but on his return in the spring 
of 1771, she was employed as his principal amanuen- 
sis, in preparing the minutes of his tour for the press. 
All his daughters, however, shared in this service, co- 
pying his numerous manuscripts, tracing over and 
over again the same page when his nicety of judg- 
ment suggested alterations; while their patient and 
affectionate assiduity brought its own reward, in the 
extension of knowledge and improvement of taste 
which accrued from such labours. 

Dr. Burney's " Italian Tour" wns no sooner pub- 
lished, than he set out on another journey, for the same 
purpose of musical research, in Germany and the Low 
Countries. His family resided during his absence at 
Lynn and at Chesington, where Fanny gradually ar- 
ranged and connected the disjointed scraps and frag- 
ments in which " Evelina" had been originally writ- 
ten, whenever a quarter of an hour's leisure and soli- 
tude had allowed her thus to preserve the creations of 
her fancy. She mentions with great naivete, in her 
^ Lynn Diary," that she never indulged herself with 



22 MEMOIRS OF 

writing or reading except in the afternoon ; always 
scrupulously devoting her time to needle-work till af- 
ter dinner. As, however, the hours of repast were 
somewhat earlier in those days than at present, this 
notable self-denial may only have sent her to her fa- 
vourite pursuits with fresh vigour. 

The arrival of her father from Germany turned her, 
thoughts into another 'channel; as along and painful 
illness, which Dr. Burney owed to the fatigues and 
difficulties of a hurried journey, " called for the inces- 
sant assiduity of his fondly-attached wife and daughters 
to nurse him through it." Even then, when confined 
to his bed by spasmodic rheumatism, he generally kept 
one of his daughters seated near him, pen in hand, 
that, during the intervals of suffering, he might dictate 
the ideas which occurred to him for his musical work ; 
and perhaps the example of such literary perseverance 
was a stimulus that amply compensated for the hin- 
drance it occasioned. 

After the Doctor's recovery, some years still elapsed 
before he was able to execute his plan ; and it was 
not till the year 1776 that he brought out the first 
volume of his " History of Music." During all this 
period of literary occupation and anxiety, it is not sur- 
prising that his daughter, gifted, though unconscious- 
Iv, with equal powers, should, even in sympathy with 
her father's feelings, be seized with a wish to see a work 
of her own also in print ; though she was far from 
desiring the public suffrage which he coveted ; on the 
contrary, she fully mtended always to remain unknown. 

She communicated this idea to her sisters, under 
promise of inviolable secrecy ; and, in furtherance of 
the project, she now transcribed the manuscript of 
" Evelina," in an upright feigned hand ; for, as she 
was her father's amanuensis, she feared lest her com- 
mon writing might accidentally be seen by some com- 
positor employed in printing the " History of Music," 
and so lead to detection. 



23 

Growing weary^ however, of this manual labour, 
after she had thus prepared the first and second vo- 
lumes, she wrote a letter, without signature, offering 
the unfinished work to Mr. Dodsley, and promising to 
send the sequel . in the following year. This letter 
was forwarded by the post, with a request that the 
answer might be directed to a coffee-house. 

Her youngest brother, Charles, though without 
reading a word of the manuscript, accepted a share in 
the frolic, and undertook to be her agent at the coffee- 
house and with the bookseller. But Mr. Dodsley de- 
clined looking at any thing anonymous ; and the 
young group, " after sitting in committee on this lofty 
reply," next fixed upon Mr. Lowndes, a bookseller in 
the city, — w^ho desired to see the manuscript, and, 
shortly after it had been conveyed to him, signified in 
a letter to the unknown author, that he could not pub*- 
lish an unfinished book, though he liked the work ; 
but he should be ready to purchase and print it when 
it should be completed. 

Disappointed at this stipulation, reasonable as it 
was, the inexperienced authoress was on the point of 
giving up her scheme altogether ; and yet, as she has 
herself observed, " to be thwarted on the score of our 
inclination, acts more frequently as a spur than as a 
bridle ;" so that, ere another year could pass away, 
she had almost involuntarily completed and transcribed 
her third volume. 

But, during the hesitation occasioned by the de- 
mand of Mr. Lowndes, another difficulty occurred, for 
she felt a conscientious scruple whether it would be 
right to allow herself such an amusement unknown to 
her father. She had never taken any important step 
without his sanction, and had now refrained from ask-, 
ing it through confiision at acknowledging her author- 
ship and dread of his desiring to see her performance. 
However, in this, as in every instancee durmg her life, 



24 MEMOIRS OF 

she no sooner saw what was her duty, than she honest- 
ly performed it. Seizing, therefore, an opportunity 
when her father was bidding her a kind farewell, pre- 
paratory to a Chesington visit, she avowed to him 
with many blushes, " her secret little work, and her 
odd inclination to see it in print ;" adding, that her 
brother Charles would transact the affair with a book- 
seller at a distance, so that her name could never trans- 
pire, and only entreating that he would not l)imself 
ask to see the manuscript. " His amazement was even 
surpassed by his amusement; and his laugh was so 
gay, that, revived by its cheering sound, she lost all 
her fears and embarrassment, and heartily joined in it, 
though somewhat at the expense of her new author- 
like dignity." 

Dr. Burney thought her project as innocent as it 
was whimsical, and kindly embracing her, enjoined 
her to be careful in guarding her own incognita, and 
then dropped the subject without even asking the name 
of her book. 

With heightened spirits she now forwarded the 
packet to Mr. Lowndes, who, in a few days, signified 
his approbation, and sent an offer of twenty pounds 
for the manuscript : — " An offer which was accepted 
with alacrity, and boundless surprise at its magnifi- 
cence !" 

In the ensuing January, 1778, "Evelina" was 
published ; a fact which only became known to its 
writer from her hearing the newspaper advertisement 
read accidentally at breakfast-time, by her mother-in- 
law, Mrs. Burney. 

The timidity of Miss Burney was apparently con- 
stitutional, and continued through life ; and though she 
was at so early an age exalted to fame and literary 
distinction, yet she found her chief happiness in the 
discharge of domestic duties and in the friendship and 
attachments of private life. 



26 

Her journal, which was faithfully kept through the 
greater part of her life, and intended only for the pe- 
rusal of her sister and one or two dear and intimate 
friends, is the surest medium through which her ad- 
mirers can become acquainted with her merits, her 
attainments, and the peculiarities of her character. 

In her last hours she placed this journal in the 
hands of her niece, with full permission to pubhsh 
whatever might be judged desirable, avowing a hope 
that some instruction might be derived from this ac- 
curate narration of her own hfe. 



CHAPTER 11. 

Publication of Evelina — Its Desi^ and Objects — Secrecy — Critique 
on Evelina — Mr. Crisj) — " Evelina" read by Dr. Burney — His dis- 
covery of its Author — Mr. Cholmondeley and Mrs. Thrale — In- 
vitation from Mrs. Thrale — Dr. Burney's delight — Mr. Crisp dis- 
covers the Author of Evelma — Visit to Streatham — Mrs. Thrale's 
Reception — Introduction to Dr. Johnson — His reason for not eat- 
ing Mutton on the day that he became acquainted with Miss Bur* 
ney. 

The following extracts from Miss Burney's Diary 
give an accurate and Advacious account of her own 
emotions at the publication of " Evelina," as well as 
an interesting narration of the events consequent upon 
its appearance. 

" 1778. This year was ushered in by a grand and 
most important event ! At the latter end of January, 
the literary world was favoured with the first publica- 
tion of the ingenious, learned, and most profound Fan- 
ny Burney ! I doubt not but this memorable affair will, 
in future times, mark the period whence chronologers 
will <late the zenith of the polite arts in this island. 
" This admirable authoress has named her most elabo- 
c 



26 MEMOIRS OF 

rate performance, Evelina ; or a Young Lady^s En^ 
trance into the World. 

" Perhaps this may seem rather a bold attempt and 
title, for a female whose knowledge of the world is 
very confined, and whose inclinations, as well as si- 
tuation, incline her to a private and domestic life. All 
I can urge is, that I have only presumed to trace the 
accidents and adventures to which a ^ young woman' 
is hable ; I have not pretended to show the world 
what it actually is, but what it appears to a girl of 
seventeen ; and so far as that, surely any girl who is 
past seventeen may safely do 1 The motto of my ex- 
cuse shall be taken from Pope's ' Temple of Fame :' 

In every work, regard the writer's end ; 
None e'er can compass more than they intend. 

" March 30. — I have just received a letter from my 
dear Charles, in which he informs me that he sub- 
scribed to a circulating library at Reading, and then 
he adds, ' I am to have ' Evelina' to-day ; the man 
told me it w^as spoken very highly of, and very much 
inquired after ; that, as yet, there has been no critique 
upon it ; but that it was thought one of the best pub- 
lications we have had for a long time.' 

" As to a critique, it is with fear and fidgets I await it. 
Next Wednesday I expect to be in one of the reviews. 
Oh Heavens ! what should I do if I w^ere known, for 
I have very little doubt I shall be horribly mauled." 

Several critiques on " Evelina" did appear shortly 
after this, but all of them particularly complimentary 
to the author. 

" Chesington, June 18th. 

" Here I am, and here I have been this age ; though 
too weak to think of journalizing ; however, as I 
never had so many curious anecdotes to record, I will 
not — at least this year, the first of my appearing in 
public —give up my favourite old hobby-horse. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 27 

" I came hither the first week in May. My recovery 
from that time to this has been slow and sure ; but as 
I could walk hardly three yards in a day at first, I 
found so much time to spare, that I could not resist 
treating myself with a little private sport with ' Eve- 
lina,' a young Iddy whom I think I have some right 
to make free with. I had promised Hetty that she 
should read it to Mr. Crisp, at her own particular re- 
quest ', but I wrote my excuses, and introduced it my- 
self. 

" I told him it was a book which Hetty had taken 
to Brompton, to divert my cousin Richard during his 
confinement. He was so indifferent about it, that I 
thought he would not give himself the trouble to read 
it, and often embarrassed me by unlucky questions, 
such as, ' If it was reckoned clever V and * What I 
thought of it V and ' Whether folks laughed at it V 
I always evaded any direct or satisfactory answer ; 
but he was so totally free from any idea of suspicion, 
that my perplexity escaped his notice. 

" At length, he desired me to begin reading to him. 
I dared not trust my voice with the little introductory 
ode, for as that is no romance, but the sincere effusion 
of my heart, I could as soon read aloud my own let- 
ters, written in my own name and character : 1 there- 
fore skipped it, and have so kept the book out of his 
sight, that, to this day, he knows not it is there. In- 
deed, I have since heartily repented that I read any 
of the book to him, for I found it a much more awk- 
ward thing than I had expected : my voice quite fal- 
tered when I began it, which, however, I passed off 
for the effect of remaining weakness of lungs ; and, 
in short, from an invincible embarrassment, which I 
could not for a page together repress, the book, by 
my reading, lost all manner of spirit. 

" Nevertheless, though he has by no means treated 
it with the praise so lavishly bestowed upon it from 



28 MEMOIRS OF 

Other quarters, I had the satisfaction to observe that 
he was even greedily eager to go on with it ; so that 
I flatter myself the story caught his attention : and, 
indeed, allowing for my mauling reading, he gave it 
quite as much credit as I had any reason to expect. — 
But, now that I was sensible of my error in being my 
own mistress of the ceremonies, I determined to leave 
to Hetty the third volume, and therefore pretended I 
had not brought it. He was in a dehghtful ill-hu- 
mour about it, and I enjoyed his impatience far more 
than I should have done his forbearance. Hetty, there- 
fore, when she comes, has undertaken to bring it." 

^ ^ tI^ -Tf -tP tP 

" I received from Charlotte a letter, the most inter- 
esting that could be written to me, for it acquainted 
me that my dear father was, at length, reading my 
book, which has now been published six months. 

" How this has come to pass, I am yet in the dark ; 
but it seems, the very moment almost that my mother, 
and Susan, and Sally left the house, he desired Char- 
lotte to bring him the Monthly Review ; she contrived 
to look over his shoulder, as he opened it, which he 
did at the account of * Evelina, or a Young Lady's 
Entrance into the World.' He read it with great 
earnestness ; then put it down, and presently after 
snatched it up and read it again. Doubtless, his pa- 
ternal heart felt some agitation for his girl, in reading 
a review of her publication ! How he got at the name 
I cannot imagine. 

" Soon after he turned to Charlotte, and bidding 
her come close to him, he put his finger on the word 
' Evelina,' and saying she knew what it was, bade her 
write down the name, and send the man to Lowndes, 
as if for herself. This she did, and away went 
William. 

" When WiUiam returned, he took the books from 
him, and the moment he was gone, opened the first 
volume — and opened it upon the ode I 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 29 

" How great must have been his astonishment, at 
seeing himself so addressed ! Indeed, Charlotte says, 
he looked all amazement, read a line or two with 
great eagerness, and then, stopping short, he seemed 
quite affected, and the tears started into his eyes : dear 
soul ! I am sure they did into mine, nay, I even sobbed, 
as I read the account. 

" I beheve he was obliged to go out before he 
advanced much further. But the next day I had a 
letter from Susan, in which I heard that he had began 
reading it with Lady Hales and Miss Coussmaker, 
and that they liked it vastly ! 

" Lady Hales spoke of it, very innocently, in the 
highest terms, declaring she was sure it was written by 
somebody in high life, and that it had all the marks of 
real genius ! She added, ^ He must be a man of great 
abilities !' 

" How ridiculous !" 

" July 25.— Mrs. Cholmondeley has been reading 
and praising ' Evelina,' and my father is quite de- 
lighted at her approbation, and told Susan that I 
could not have had a greater compliment than making 
two such women my friends as Mrs. Thrale and Mrs. 
Cholmondeley, for they were severe and knowing, and 
afraid of praising a tort et a travers, as their opinions 
are liable to be quoted. 

" Mrs. Thrale said she had only to complain it was 
too short. She recommended it to my mother: to read ! 
how droll ! and she told her she would be much en- 
tertained with it, for there was a great deal of human 
life in it, and of the manners of the present times, and 
added that it was written by somebody who knows 
the top and bottom, the highest and the lowest of 
mankind. She has even lent her set to my mother, 

who brought it home with her !" 

****** 

" Last Saturday evening, my beloved father came to 

c* 



30 MEMOIRS OF 

Chesington, in full health, charming spirits, and all 
kindness, openness, and entertainment. 

" In his way hither he had stopped at Streatham, and 
he settled with Mrs. Thrale that he would call on her 
again in his way to town, and carry me with him ! and 
Mrs. Thrale said, * We all long to know her.' 

" I have been in a kind of twitter ever since, for there 
seems something very formidable in the idea of ap- 
pearing as an authoress ! I ever dreaded it, as it is a 
title which must raise more expectations than I have 
any chance of answering. Yet I am highly flattered 
by her invitation, and highly delighted in the prospect 
of being introduced to the Streatham society. 

" She sent me some very serious advice to write for 
the theatre, as she says I so naturally run into con- 
versations, that ' Evelina' absolutely and plainly 
points out that path to me ; and she hinted how much 
she should be pleased to be honoured with my confi- 
dence.' 

"My dear father communicated this intelligence, and 
a great deal more, with a pleasure that almost sur- 
passed that with which I heard it, and he seems quite 
eager for me to make another attempt. He desired 
to take upon himself the communication to my daddy 
Crisp, and as it is now in so many hands, that it is 
possible accident might discover it to him, I readily 
consented. 

" Sunday evening, as I was going into my father's 
room, I heard him say, ' The variety of characters — 
the variety of scenes — and the language — why she 
has had very little education but what she has given 
herself — less than any of the others !' and Mr. Crisp 
exclaimed, ' Wonderful ! it's w^onderful !' 

" I now found what was going forward, and there- 
fore deemed it most fitting to decamp. 

" About an hour after, as I was passing through the 
hall, I met my daddy (Crisp.) His face was ail anima- 



MADAME D'ARBLAY. 61 

tion and archness ; he doubled his fist at me, and would 
have stopped me, but I ran past him into the parlour. 

" Before supper, however, I again met him, and he 
would not suffer me to escape ; he caught both my 
hands, and looked as if he would have looked me 
through, and then exclaimed, ' Why, you little hussy, 
— you young devil ! — ain't you ashamed to look me 
in the face, you Evelina, you ! Why, what a dance 
have you led me about it ! Young friend, indeed ! 
O you little hussy, what tricks have you served me !' 

" London, August. — I have now to write an ac- 
count of the most consequential day I have spent since 
my birth : namely, my Streatham visit. 

" Our journey to Streatham was the least pleasant 
part of the day, for the roads were dreadfully dasty, 
and I was really in the fidgets from thinking what my 
reception might be, and from fearing they w^ould ex- 
pect a less awkward and backward kind of person 
than I was sure they would find. 

" Mr. Thrale's house is white, and very pleasantly 
situated in a fine paddock. Mrs. Thrale was strolling 
about, and came to us as we got out of the chaise. 

" * Ah,' cried she, ' I hear Dr. Burney's voice ! and 
you have brought your daughter ? well, now you are 
good !' 

" She then received me, taking both my hands, and 
with mixed politeness and cordiality welcoming me 
to Streatham. She led me into the house, and ad- 
dressed herself almost wholly for a few minutes to my 
father, as if to give me an assurance she did not mean 
to regard me as a show, or to distress or frighten me 
by drawing me out. Afterwards she took me up 
stairs and showed me the house, and said she had very 
much wished to see me at Streatham, and should al- 
ways think herself much obliged to Dr. Burney for 
his goodness in bringing me, which she looked upon 
as a very great favour. 



32 MEMOIRS OF 

" But though we were some time together, and though 
she was so very civil, she did not hint at my book; 
and I love her much more than ever for her delicacy 
in avoiding a sub act, which she could not but see 
would have greaily embarrassed me. 

" When we returned to the music-room, we found 
Miss Thrale was with my father. Miss Thrale is a 
very fine girl, about fourteen years of age, but cold 
and reserved, though full of knowledge and intelli- 
gence. 

" Soon after, Mrs. Thrale took me to the library ; 
she talked a little while upon common topics, and 
then, at last, she mentioned ' Evelina.' 

" ' Yesterday, at supper,' said she, ' we talked it all 
over, and discussed all your characters ; but Dr. John- 
son's favourite is Mr. Smith. He declares the fine 
gentleman manque was never better drawn : and he 
acted him all the evening, saying he was ' all for the 
ladies !' He repeated whole scenes by heart. I de- 
clare I was astonished at him. Oh, you can't imagine 
how much he is pleased with the book ; he ' could not 
get rid of the rogue,' he told me. ' But was it not 
droll,' said she, ' that I should recommend it to Dr. 
Burney — and tease him so innocently to read it V 

" When we were summoned to dinner, Mrs. Thrale 
made my father and me sit on each side of her. I said 
that I hoped I did not take Dr. Johnson's place ; — for 
he had not yet appeared. 

" ' No,' answered Mrs. Thrale, ^ he will sit by you, 
which I am sure will give him great pleasure.' 

" Soon after we were seated, this great man entere'd. 
I have so true a veneration for him, that the very sight 
of him inspires me with delight and reverence, not- 
withstanding the cruel infirmities to which he is sub- 
ject ; for he has almost perpetual convulsive move- 
ments, either of his hands, lips, feet, or knees, and 
sometimes of all together. 



MADAME d'aEEAY. 33 

" Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him, and he took his 
place. We had a noble dinner, and a most excellent 
dessert. Dr. Johnson, in the middle of dinner, asked 
Mrs. Thrale what was in some little pies that were 
near him. 

" ' Mutton,' answered she, * so I don't ask you to 
eat any, because I know you despise it.' 

" ' No, madam, no,' cried he ; 'I despise nothing 
that is good of its sort ; but 1 am too proud now to 
eat of it. Sitting by Miss Burney makes me very 
proud to-day !" 



CHAPTER II. 

Miss Burney a constant Visitor at Streatham — Dr. Johnson's free- 
dom in condemning what he dislikes — His first allusion to " Eve- 
lina" — Dr. Goldsmith and the " Good-natured Man." — The cha- 
racter of Croaker stolen from Dr. Johnson — Dr. Johnson's Opinion 
of the " Vicar of Wakefield" — His Repugnance to the Scotch Na- 
tion. — His fastidiousness about the Dress of Ladies — He pronoun- 
ces " Evelina" superior to Fielding's works — Miss Burney be- 
comes acquainted with Mrs. Montagu — An Amusing Incident — 
Dr. Johnson and Miss Burney. 

Miss Burney soon became a constant visitor at 
Streatham, and in her letters to her sister she declares 
herself incapable of expressing the pleasure which 
she derives from the society of Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, 
Dr. Johnson, and their friends. She describes Mr. 
Thrale as exceedingly fascinating, and adds the fol- 
lowing comment upon Dr. Johnson. 

" The freedom with which Dr. Johnson condemns 
whatever he disapproves, is astonishing; and the 
strength of words he uses would, to most people, be 
intolerable : but Mrs. Thrale seems to have a sweet- 
ness of disposition that equals all her other excellen- 
cies, and far from making a point of vindicating her- 
self, she generally receives his admonitions with the 
most respectful silence." 



34 MEMome of 

Miss Burney gives the following description of Dr. 
Johnson's first allusion to " Evelina. " 

" Dr. Johnson, as usual, came last into the library ; 
he was in high spirits and full of mirth and sport. I 
had the honour of sitting next to him : and now, all at 
once, he flung aside his reserve, thinking, perhaps, 
that it was time I should fling aside mine. 

*' Mrs. Thrale told him that she intended taking me 
to Mr. T 's. 

" ' So you ought, madam,' cried he, * 'tis your bu- 
siness to be Cicerone to her.' 

" Then suddenly he snatched my hand, and kissing 
it, ' Ah !' he added, * they will httle think what a tar- 
tar you carry to them !' 

" ' No, that they won't !' cried Mrs. Thrale ; * Miss 
Burney looks so meek and so quiet, nobody would 
suspect what a comical girl she is ; but I believe she 
has a great deal of malice at heart.' 

" ' Oh, she's a toad 1' cried the Doctor, laughing — 
* a sly young rogue ! with her Smiths and her 
Branghtons !' 

Shortly after the above conversation took place, 
Miss Burney, w^ho was looking over the books in the 
library, was joined by Mrs. Thrale. " We had a very 
nice confab about various books," says Miss Burney, 
" and exchanged opinions and imitations of Baretti ; 
she told me many excellent tales of him ; and, I, in 
turn, related my stories. 

" She gave me a long and very entertaining account 
of Dr. Goldsmith, who was intimately known here ; 
but in speaking of ' The Good-natured Man,' when 
I extolled my favourite Croaker, I found that admira- 
ble character was a downright theft from Dr. Johnson. 
Look at the * Rambler' and you will find Suspirius 
is the R^an, and that not merely the idea, but the par- 
ticulars of the character, are ail stolen thence !* 

♦Suspirius, the Screech Owl. See Rambler for Tuesday Oct. 9 1750. 



35 

*^ While we were yet reading this ' Rambler' Dr. 
Johnson came in : we told him what we were about. 

" ' Ah, madam !' cried he, ^ Goldsmith was not scru- 
pulous; but he would have been a great man had he 
known the real value of his own internal resources.' 

*'' ' Miss Burney,' said Mrs. Thrale, * is fond of his 
* Vicar of Wakefield :' and so am I ; — don't you like 
it, sir V 

" ' No, madam, it is very faulty ; there is nothing of 
real life in it, and very little of nature. It is a mere 
fanciful performance.' 

" He then seated himself upon a sofa, and calling 
to me, said ' Come, — Evelina, — come and sit by me.' 

" I obeyed ; and he took me almost in his arms, — 
that is, one of his arms, for one would go three times, 
at least, round me, — and, half laughing, half serious, 
he charged me to * be a good girl !' 

" ' But, my dear,' continued he with a very droll look, 
^ what makes you so fond of the Scotch ? I don't hke 
you for that ; I hate these Scotch, and so must you. 
I wish Brangton had sent the dog to jail ! that Scotch 
dog Macartney !' " 

Miss Burney gives the following amusing account 
of Dr. Johnson's fastidiousness in regard to the dress 
of ladies. 

" Saturday Morning. Dr. Johnson was all himself 
again, and so civil to me ! — even admiring how I dress 
myself! Indeed, it is well I have so much of his fa- 
vour ; for it seems he always speaks his mind concern- 
ing the dress of ladies^ and all ladies who are here 
obey his injunctions implicitly, and alter whatever he 
disapproves. This is a part of his character that much 
surprises me : but notwithstanding he is sometimes so 
absent, and always so near-sighted, he scrutinizes in- 
to every part of almost every body's appearance. 
They tell me of a Miss Brown, who often visits here, 
and who has a slovenly way of dressing. ' And when 



36 MEMOIRS OF 

she comes down in a morning,' says Mrs. Thrale, 
' her hair will be all loose, and her cap half off: and 
then Dr. Johnson, who sees something is wrong, and 
does not know where the fault is, concludes it is in the 
cap, and -says, 'My dear, what do you wear such a 
vile cap for V ' I'll change it sir,' cries the poor girl, 
' if you don't like it.' ' Ay, do.' he says ; and away 
runs poor Miss Brown ; but when she gets on another, 
it's the same thing, for the cap has nothing to do with 
the fault. And then she wonders Br. Johnson should 
not like the cap, for she thinks it very pretty. And 
so on with her gown, which he also makes her change ; 
but if the poor girl were to change through all her 
wardrobe, unless she could put her things on better, 
he would still find fault." 

The high estimation in which Dr. Johnson held 
Evelina, may be inferred from an extract of Miss Bur- 
ney's Diary during one of her visits to Streatham. 
Mrs. Thrale and Miss Burney were conversing with 
Dr. Johnson, when the former made some allusion to 
MissBurney's modesty as an author. "I then es- 
caped," says Miss Burney, to look for a book which 
we had been talking of, and Dr. Johnson, when I re- 
turned to my seat, said he wished Richardson had been 
alive. 

" ' And then,' he added, * she should have been in* 
troduced to him — though I don't know, neither — 
Richardson would have been afraid of her.' 

" ' O yes ! that's a likely matter,' quoth I. 

" * It's ^ ery true,' continued he ; ' Richardson would 
have been really afraid of her ; there is merit in * Eve- 
lina' which he could not have borne. 

" ' No ; it would not have done ! unless, indeed, she 
would have flattered him prodigiously. Harry Field- 
ing, too, would have been afraid of her ; there is no- 
thing so delicately finished in all Harry Fielding's 
works, as in ' Evelina 1' " 



37 

*' Then shaking his head at me, he exclaimed; * O, 
you little character-monger, you !' 

" Mrs. Thrale then returned to her charge, and 
again urged me about a comedy ; again I tried to si- 
lence her, and we had a fine fight together ; till she 
called upon Dr. Johnson to back her. 

« ' Why, Madam,' said he, laughing, * she is writing 
one. What a rout is here, indeed ! she is writing one 
upstairs all the time. Who ever knew when she be- 
gan ' Evelina V She is working at some drama, de- 
pend upon it.' 

" ^ True, true, O king !' thought L 
** ' Well, that will be a sly trick !' cried Mrs. Thrale ; 
* however, you know best, I believe, about that, as 
well as about every other thing.' " 

Mrs. Thrale being desirous to make Miss Burney 
acquainted with Mrs. Montague, (" our sex's glory," as 
Miss B. enthusiastically terms her,) an invitation to 
dinner was sent to that lady. Mrs. Thrale in her note 
alludes to Evelina and its authoress without mention- 
ing the name of the latter, this incautious kindness led 
to a distressing incident, which Miss Burney thus re- 
lates. 

" Mrs. Montague is middle -sized, very thin, and 
looks infirm ; she has a sensible and penetrating coun- 
tenance, and the air and manner of a woman accus- 
tomed to being distinguished, and of great parts. Dr. 
Johnson, who agrees in this, told iis that a Mrs. Her- 
vey, of his acquaintance, says, she can remember Mrs. 
Montague trying for this same air and manner. Mr. 
Crisp has said the same : however, nobody can now 
impartially see her, and not confess that she has ex- 
tremely well succeeded. 

" My expectations, which were compounded of the 
praise of Mrs. Thrale, and the abuse of Mr. Crisp, 
were most exactly answered, for I thought her in a 
medium way. 

D 



38 MEMOIRS OF 

" Miss Gregory is a fine young woman, and seems 
gentle and well-bred. 

" A bustle with the dog Presto-^Mrs. Thrale's fa- 
vourite — at the entrance of these ladies into the Yihra- 
ry, prevented any formal reception ; but as soon as 
Mrs. Montague heard my name, she inquired very civil- 
ly after my father, and made many speeches concern- 
ing a volume of ' Linguet,^ which she has lost ; but 
she hopes soon to be able to replace it. I am sure 
he is very high in her favour, because she did me the 
honour of addressing herself to me three or four timea 

" But my ease and tranquillity were soon disturbed : 
for she had not been in the room more than ten mi- 
nutes, ere, turning to Mrs. Thrale, she said, 

" ' Oh, ma'am — but your ' Evelina'— ^1 have not yet 
got it — I sent for it, but the bookseller had it not. 
However, I will certainly have W 

" * Ay, I hope, so, ' answered Mrs. Thrale, * and I 
hope you will like it too ; for ' tis a book to be liked.' 

" I began now a vehement nose-blowing, for the 
benefit of handkerchiefing my face. 

" * I hope though,' said Mrs. Montague, drily, ' it is 
not in verse ? I can read any thing in prose, but I have 
a great dread of a long story in verse.' 

" ' No, ma'am, no ; 'tis all in prose, I assure you. 
'Tis a novel ; and an exceeding — but it does nothing 
good to be praised too much, so I will say nothing 
more about it : only this, that Mr. Burke sat up all 
night to read it.' 

" ' Indeed 1 Well, I propose myself great pleasure 
from it ; and I am gratified by hearing it is written by 
a woman.' 

*■'' ' And Sir Joshua Reynolds,' continued Mrs. Thrale, 
* has been offering fifty pounds to know the author.' 

" * Well, I will have it to read on my journey ; I am 
going to Berkshire, and it shall be my travelling book.' 

" ' Noj^ma'aro, if you please you shall have it now^ 



MADAME d'aBBLAY 39 

Queeny, do look it for Mrs. Montague, and let it be put 
in her carriage, and go to town with her/ 

*' Miss Thrale rose to look for it, and involuntarily I 
rose too, intending to walk off, for my situation was 
inexpressibly awkward ; but then I recollected that if 
1 went away, it might seem like giving Mrs. Thrale 
leave and opportunity to tell my tale, and therefore 
I stopped at a distant window, w^here I busied myself 
in contemplating the poultry. 

" ' And Dr. Johnson, ma'am,' added my kind puffer, 
^ says Fielding never wrote so well — never wrote 
equal to this book ; he says it is a better picture of 
life and manners than is to be found any where in 
Fielding.' 

'' ^ Indeed !' cried Mrs. Montague surprised ; ' that I 
did not expect, for I have been informed it is the work 
of a young lady, and therefore, though I expected a 
very pretty book, I supposed it to be a work of mere 
imagination, and the name I thought attractive ; but 
life and manners I never dreamt of finding.' 

" ' Well, ma'am, what I tell you is literally true ; and 
for my part, I am never better pleased than when 
good girls write clever books — and that this is clever, 
— But all this time we are killing Miss Burney, who 
wrote the book herself 

" What a clap of thunder was this ! — the last thing 
in the world I should have expected before my facei. 
I know not what bewitched Mrs. Thrale, but this was 
carrying the jest further than ever. All retenu being 
now at an end, I fairly and abruptly took to my heels, 
and ran out of the room with the utmost trepidation, 
amidst astonished exclamations from Mrs. Montague 
and Miss Gregory." 

Miss Burney daily became more attached to Dr. 
Johnson, and daily rose in his estimation, as she herself 
attests. 

^* I have had," says she, " a thousand delightful con- 
2k* 



40 MEMOIRS OF 

versations with Dr. Johnson, who, whether he loves me 
or not, I am sure seems to have some opinion of my 
discretion, for he speaks of all this house to me with 
unbounded confidence, neither diminishing faults, nor 
exaggerating praise. Whenever he is below stairs 
he keeps me a prisoner, for he does not like I should 
quit the room a moment j if I rise he constantly calls 
out ' Don't you go, little Burney !' " 



CHAPTER III. 

Miss Buniey's visit from Dr. Franklin — Miss Burney and Sir Joshua 
Reynolds — " Dear little Burney" — Miss Bumey's annoyance at the 
appearance of her Name in print — Her Acquaintance with Mr, 
and Mrs. Sheridan — Personal Appearance of Sheridan — His men- 
tion of" Evelina'' — " The writings" — Dr. Barney's condemnation 
of his Daughter's Comedy — The beautiful, humility of her reply — 
Mr. Crisp's objection — Dr. Johnson instructs Miss Burney in La- 
tin — Incident at an Inn — Sir Thomas Lawrence in his childhood — 
Mrs. Byron. 

Miss Burney's admirers, even in her youth, were not 
confined to her own countrymen alone — an extract 
from her diary of 1779, shows that one of the most 
celebrated men of America was desirous of beholding 
and conversing with her. 

" >S'^. Martin's Street, Jan. 1779. On Thursday, I 
had another adventure, and one that has made me grin 
#ver since. A gentleman, inquiring for my father, was 
asked into the parloar. The then inhabitants were 
only my mother and me. In entered a square old gen- 
tleman, well wigged, formal, grave, and important. 
He seated himself. My mother asked if he had any 
message for my father ? 

" * No, none.' 

" Then he regarded me with a certain dry kind of 
attention for some time ; after which, turning sudden- 
ly to my mother, he demanded, 

" * Pray, ma'am, is this your daughter V 

«' Yes, sir.' 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 41 

««0! this is Evelina, is it?' 

" * No, sir,' cried I, staring at him, and glad none 
of you were in the way to say Yes. 

" ' No V repeated he, incredulous ; ^ is not your 
name Evelina, ma'am V 

" ^ Dear, no, sir,' again quoth I, staring harder. 

*•' ' Ma'am,' cried he, drily, ' I beg your pardon ! I 
had understood your name was Evelina.' 

" And soon he went away. 

" When he put down his card, who should it prove 
but Dr. Franklin ! 

" Was it not queer ?" 

About this period. Miss Burney was exceedingly 
annoyed by the mention of her name in a pamphlet 
addressed to Sir Joshua Reynolds. It seemed impos- 
sible for her to .overcome her repugnance to appear- 
ing in print other than incog. The passage which so 
much annoyed her was the following. Speaking of 
some aim of Sir Joshua Reynolds's, the writer asks 
"will it gain approbation from ' dear little Burney ?' " 
The phrase " dear little Burney" was Dr. Johnson's 
favourite mode of speaking of Miss Burney. Insigni- 
ficant as this allusion appears, it occasioned Miss Bur- 
ney much uneasiness, and was even the cause of a 
transient indisposition. Her friends, ancf Mrs. Thrale 
in particular, used their utmost endeavours to persuade 
her to overcome this fastidiousness, but they were not 
very successful. Dr. Johnson paid her a visit on pur- 
pose to reason with her, and at his desire she made a 
great effort to banish her dissatisfaction. 

The circle of her acquaintance in the literary world, 
as well as amongst the nobility, daily increased. Her 
journal contains descriptions of numerous interesting 
individuals. We extract the account of her first in- 
terview with Mr. Sheridan. She became acquainted 
with him during a visit at Mr. Cholmondeley's. 

" Just then the door opened and Mr. Sheridan en- 



42 MEMOIRS OF 

tercd. Was I not in luck ? Not that I believe the 
meeting was accidental ; but I had more wished to 
meet him and his wife than any people I know not. 

" Mr. Sheridan has a very fine figure, and a good 
though I don't think a handsome face. He is tall, 
and very upright, and his appearance and address are 
at once manly and fashionable, without the smallest 
tincture of foppery or modish gi:-aces. In short, I like 
him vastly, and think him every way worthy his beau- 
tiful companion. 

" And let me tell ycii what I know will give you 
as much pleasure as it gave me, — that, by all I could 
observe in the course of the evening, and we stayed 
very late, they are extremely happy in each other ; 
he evidently adores her, and she as evidently idolizes 
him. The world has by no means done him justice. 

" When he had paid his compliments to all his ac- 
quaintance, he went behind the sofa on which Mrs. 
Sheridan and Miss Cholmondeley were seated, and 
entered into earnest conversation with them. 

" And now I must tell you a little conversation 
which I did not hear myself till I came home ; it was 
between Mr. Sheridan and my father. 

" ' Dr. Burney,' cried the former, ' have you no old- 
er daughters? Can this possibly be the authoress of 
« Evelina V 

" And then he said abundance of fine things, and 
begged my father to introduce him to me. 

" ' Why, it will be a very formidable thing to her,' 
answered he, * to be introduced to you.' 
" ' Well then, by and by,' returned he. 
" Some time after this, my eyes happening to meet 
his, he waived the ceremony of introduction, and in a 
low voice said, 

" ' I have been telling Dr. Burney that I have long 
expected to see in Miss Burney a lady of the gravest 
appearance, with the quickest parts.' 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 43 

" I was never much more astonished than at this 
imexpected address, as among all my numerous puf- 
fers the name of Sheridan has never reached me, and 
I did really imagine he had never designed to look at 
my trash. 

" Of course I could make no verbal answer, and he 
proceeded then to speak of * Evelina' in terms of the 
highest praise ; but I was in such a ferment from sur- 
prise (not to say pleasure), that I have no recollec- 
tion of his expressions. I only remember teUing 
him that I was much amazed he had spared time to 
read it, and that he repeatedly called it a most sur- 
prising book ; and some time after he added, * But I 
hope, Miss Burney, you don't intend to throw away 
your pen V 

" ^ You should take care, sir,' said I, ' what you 
say : for you know not what weight it may have.' 

" He wished it might have any, he said, and soon 
after turned again to my father." 

In July, 1779, Miss Burney completed a Comedy 
entitled " The Witlings," and submitted it to her fath- 
er, Mr. Crisp, Mrs. Thrale, and one or two other friends. 
It met the warm approbation of Mrs. Thrale and her 
friends, but was condemned by Dr. Burney and Mr. 
Crisp, who were more chary of the young authoress's 
reputation. The objection of Mr. Crisp to the MS. 
play of " The Witlings" was its resemblance to Mo- 
liere's Femmes Scavajifes, and its inferiority to that 
drama. Miss Burney asserts, however, that she had 
never read Moliere's Femmes Scavantes when she 
composed the " The Witlings." 

She received her father's decision w^ith excellent 
grace, and in a spirit which showed that her humility 
was not affected. The following is the answer to his 
letter. 

" The fatal knell is knolled, and down among the 
dead men sink the poor ' Witlings' — for ever, and 
for ever, and for ever ! 



44 MEMOIRS OF 

" I give a sigh, whether I will or not, to their mem- 
ory ! for, however worthless, they were mes enfans, 
and one must do one's nature, as Mr. Crisp will tell 
you of the dog. 

" You, my dearest sir, who enjoyed, I really think, 
even more than myself, the astonishing success of my 
first attempt, would, I believe, even more than my- 
self, be hurt at the failure of my second ; and I am 
sure I speak from the bottom of a very honest 
heart, when I most solemnly declare, that upon your 
account any disgrace would mortify and afflict me 
more than upon my own ; for whatever appears with 
your knowledge, will be naturally supposed to have 
met with your approbation, and, perhaps, your as- 
sistance ; therefore, though all particular censure 
would fall where it ought — upon me — yet any gene- 
ral censure of the whole, and the plan, would cruelly 

but certainly involve you in its severity. 

* # " * * * # * 

" You bid me open my heart to you, — and so, my 
dearest sir, I will, for it is the greatest happiness of 
my life that I dare be sincere to you. I expected 
many objections to be raised — a thousand errors to be 
pointed ont — and a million of alterations to be pro- 
posed ; but the suppression of the piece were words I 
did not expect ; indeed, after the warm approbation 
of Mrs. Thrale, and the repeated commendations and 
flattery of Mr. Murphy, how could I ? 

" I do not, therefore, pretend to wish you should 
think a decision, for which I was so little prepared, 
has given me no disturbance ; for I must be a far 
more egregious witling than any of those I tried to 
draw, to imagine you could ever credit that I wrote 
without some remote hope of success now — though 1 
literally did when I composed ' Evelina !' 

" But my mortification is not at throwing away the 
characters, or the contrivance : — it is all at throwing 



MADAME D*ARBLAY. 45 

away the time, — which I with difficulty stole, and 
which I have buried in the mere trouble of writing. 

" What my daddy Crisp says, ' that it would be the 
best policy, but ibr pecuniary advantages, for me to 
write no more,' is exactly what I have always thought 
since ' Evelina' was published. But I will not now 
talk of putting it into practice ; for the best way 1 can 
take of shewing that I have a true and just sense of 
the spirit of your condemnation, is not to sink sulky 
and dejected under it, but to exert myself to the ut- 
most of my power in endeavours to produce something 
less reprehensible. And this shall be the way I will 
pursue as soon as my mind is more at eas^e about Het- 
ty and Mrs. Thrale, and as soon as I have read my- 
self into a forgetfulness of my old dramatis fersonce, 
lest I should produce something else as witless as the 
last." 

Miss Burney soon forgot " The Witlings," and re- 
turned to her usual occupations, amongst which was 
the study of Latin. Her instructor was no other than 
Dr. Johnson himself, who took great delight in two 
such pupils as Miss Burney and Miss Thrale. 

" Do you know," says Miss Burney in a journal 
addressed to her sister, " I have been writing to Dr. 
Johnson ! I tremble to mention it ; but he sent a mes- 
sage in a letter to Mrs. Thrale, to wonder why his 
pupils did not write to him, and to hope they did not 
forget him : Miss Thrale, therefore, wrote a letter im- 
mediately, and I added only this little postscript : 

" ' P. S. Dr. Johnson's other pupil a httle longs to 
add a few lines to this letter,— but knows too well 
that all she has to say might be comprised in signing 
herself his obliged and most obedient servant, F. B. : 
so that's better than a long rigmarole about nothing." 

In travelHng to Bath, Mr. and Mrs. Thrale and 
Miss Burney made an accidental acquaintance at an 
inn, the remembrance of which must many years af- 



46 MEMOIRS OF 

terwards have afforded them much pleasure. We 
give Miss Burney's own description. 

" The second day we slept at Speen Hill, and the 
third day we reached Devizes. 

" And here, Mrs. Thrale and I were much pleased 
with our hostess, Mrs. Lawrence, who seemed some- 
thing above her station in her inn. While we were 
at cards before supper, we were much surprised by the 
sound of a piano-forte. I jumped up, and ran to list- 
en whence it proceeded. I found it came from the 
next room, where the overture to the * Buona Fig- 
liuola' was performing. The playing was very de- 
cent, but as the music was not quite new to me, my 
curiosity was not whole ages in satisfying, and there- 
fore I returned to finish the rubber. 

" Don't I begin to talk in an old-cattish manner of 
cards ? 

" Well, another deal was hardly played, ere we 
heard the sound of a voice, and out I ran again. — 
The singing, however, detained me not long, and so 
back I whksked ; but the performance, however in- 
different in itself, yet surprised us at the Bear at De- 
vizes, and therefore Mrs. Thrale determined to know 
from whom if came. Accordingly, she tapped at the 
door. A very handsome girl, about thirteen years 
old, with fine dark hair upon a finely formed fore- 
head, opened it. Mrs. Thrale made an apology for 
her intrusion, but the poor girl blushed and retreated 
into the corner of the room ; another girl, however, 
advanced, and obligingly and gracefully invited us in, 
and gave us all chairs. She was just sixteen, ex- 
tremely pretty, and with a countenance better than 
her features, though those were also very good. 

" Mrs. Thrale made her many compliments, which 
she received with a mingled modesty and pleasure, 
both becoming and interesting. She was, indeed, a 
sweetly pleasing girl. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 47 

" We found tuey were both daughters of our host- 
ess, and born and bred at Devizes. We were ex- 
tremely pleased with them, and made them a long- 
visit, which I wished to have been longer. But though 
those girls struck us so much, the wonder of the fam- 
ily was yet to be produced. This was their brother, 
a most lovely boy of ten years of age, who seems to 
be not merely the wonder of their family, but of the 
times, for his astonishing skill in drawing. They pro- 
test he has never had any instruction, yet showed us 
some of his productions that were really beautiful. — 
Those that were copies were delightful — those of his 
own composition amazing, though far inferior. I was 
equally struck with the boy and his works. 

" We found that he had been taken to town, and 
that all the painters had been very kind to him, and 
Sir Joshua Reynolds had pronounced him, the mother 
said, the most promising genius he had ever met with. 
Ml. Hoare has been so charmed with this sweet boy's 
drawings, that he intends sending him to Italy with 
his own son. 

" I'his house was full of books, as well as paintings, 
drawings, and music ; and all the family seem not 
only ingenious and industrious, but amiable ; added 
to which they are strikingly handsome. 

" I hope we shall return the same road that we may 
see them again." 

This boy was afterwards the celebrated painter 
Sir Thomas Lawrence, President of the Royal Aca- 
demy. 

At Bath, Miss Burney became acquainted with 
Mrs. Byron, grandmother to the Poet. She thus men- 
tions her : 

" In the evening we were all engaged to the Bel- 
videre, to visit Mrs. Byron, who arrived at Bath two 
days before. 

" The Belvidere is a most beautiful spot ; it is on a 



48 MEMOIRS OF 

high hill, at one of the extremities of the town, of 
which, as of the Avon and all the adjacent country, it 
commands a view that is quite enchantmg. 

" Poor Mrs. Byron is very far from well, thou9;h 
already better than when I saw her in town ; but her 
charming spirits never fail her, and she rattled and 
shone away with all the fire and brilhancy of vigor- 
ous health. Augusta is much improved in her person, 
but preserves the same engaging simplicity of man- 
ners that distinguished her at Brighthelmstone. She 
was quite overjoyed at meeting me, and talked quite 
in raptures of renewing our acquaintance and seeing 
me often. I never hardly met with so artless an en- 
thusiasm for what she loves as in this fair Augusta, 
whom I must iove in return, whether I will or not." 



CHAPTER IV. 

Death of Mr. Thrale— Miss Burney's Letter to his Widow— " Ce» 
cilia" — Fears for its Success — Dr. Burney's Opinion — Enthusias- 
tic reception of " Cecilia" — Complimeatary Letter of the Hon- 
ourable Edmund Burke — Mrs. Siddons — Mrs. Garrick — Mrs. Cha- 
pone — Horace Walpoie — Mrs. Deiany^-Duchess of Portland- 
Death of Mr. Crisp — Dr. Johnson seized with a paralytic Stroke — 
His Latin Prayer — Miss Burney's Visit to Him— Presiding at 
his Breakfast Table. 

Early in the Spring of 1781, Miss Burney w^as 
much afflicted by the death of Mr. Thrale, who had 
for some time been in ill health. He died suddenly, 
by a stroke of apoplexy, on the morning of the day 
on which half the fashion of London had been invited 
to an intended assembly at his house in Grosvenor 
Square. The efforts of Miss Burney to console his 
sorrowing widow are truly touching. In answer to 
Mrs. Thrale's hurried note w^ritten a few hom'S after 
the death of Mr. Thrale, she says, 



Madame d'arblaY. 49 

" You bid me write to you, and so I will , you bid 
me pray for you, and so, indeed, I do, for the restora- 
tion of your sweet peace of mind. I pray for your 
resignation to this hard blow, for the continued union 
and exertion of your virtues with your talents, and 
for the happiest reward their exertion can meet with, 
in the gratitude and prosperity of your children. These 
are my prayers for my beloved Mrs. Thrale; but these 
are not my only ones ; no, the unfailing warmth of 
her kindness for myself I have rarely, for a long time 
past, slept without first petitioning." 

Miss Burney soon joined Mrs. Thrale at Streathara, 
and the tie between them became stronger than ever. 
" Ceciha," Miss Barney's second novel, was complet- 
ed in the Spring of 1782. She thus mentions this 
new production to her sister : 

" My work is too long in all conscience for the hur- 
ry of my people to have it produced. I have a thou- 
sand million of fears for it. The mere copying, with- 
out revising and correcting, would take at least ten 
weeks, for I cannot do more than a volume in a fort- 
night, unless I scrawl short hand and rough hand, as 
badly as the original. Yet my dear father thinks it 
will be published in a month ! Since you went I have 
copied one volume and a quarter— no more ! Oh, I 
am sick to think of it ! Yet not a little reviving is 
my father's very high approbation of the first volume, 
which is all he has seen. I totally forgot whether, in 
my last, I told you I had presented it to him ; but I 
am sure you would never forget, for the pleasure you 
would have felt for me, had you seen or heard him 
reading any part of it. 

" Would you ever believe, bigoted as he was to 
' Evelina,' that he now says he thinks this a superior 
design and superior execution ? 

'' You can never half imagine the delight this has 
given me. It is answering my first wish and first am- 

E 



50 MEMOIRS OF 

bition in life. And though I am certain, and though 
he thinks himself, it will never be so popular as ' Ev- 
elina,' his so warm satisfaction will make me amends 
for almost any mortification that may be in store for 
me." 

" ^ Ceciha' appeared and met, if possible, a more 
enthusiastic reception than ' Evelina.' One of the 
most flattering tributes to Miss Burney's talents was 
paid her by the Honourable Edmund Burke in the 
following letter addressed to her immediately after the 
publication of ' Ceciha.' 

"'FROM THE RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE TO MISS F. 
BURNEY. 

" * Madam : I should feel exceedingly to blame if I 
could refuse to myself the natural satisfaction, and to 
you the just but poor return, of my best thanks for the 
very great instruction and entertainment I have receiv- 
ed from the new present you have bestowed on the 
public. There are few — I believe I may say fairly there 
are none at all — that will not find themselves better 
informed concerning human nature, and their stock 
of observation enriched, by reading your ' C'cilia.' 
They certainly will, let tlieir experience in hie and 
manners be what it may. The arrogance of age must 
submit to be taught by youth. You have crowded in- 
to a few small volumes an incredible variety of cha- 
racters ; most of them w^ell planned, well supported, 
and well contrasted with each other. If there be any 
fault in this respect, it is one in w^hich you are in no 
great danger of being imitated. Justly as your cha- 
racters are drawn, perhaps they are too numerous. — 
But I beg pardon ; I fear it is quite in vain to preach 
economy to those who are come young to excessive 
and sudden opulence. 

*' ' I might trespass on your delicacy, if I should fill 
my letter to vou with what I fill my conversation to 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 51 

others. I should be troublesome to you alone if I 
should tell you all I feel and think on the natural vein 
of humour, the tender, pathetic, the comprehensive 
and noble moral, and the sagacious observation, that 
appear quite throughout that extraordinary perform- 
ance. 

" ' In an age distinguished by producing extraordi- 
nary women, I hardly dare to tell you where my opin- 
ion would place you amongst them. I respect your 
modesty, that will not endure the commendations 
which your merit forces from every body. 

" ' I have the honour to be, with great gratitude, 
respect, and esteem, madam, your most obedient and 
most humble servant, 

' Edm. Burke.' 

" ' Whitehall, July 29, 1782.' " 

The mention which Miss Burney makes of celebra- 
ted persons with whom she was daily becoming ac- 
quainted, is particularly interesting to those who are 
already familiar with their names. Of Mrs. Siddons 
she writes : 

" I was extremely happy to have my dear father 
with me at Miss Monckton's. We found Mrs. Sid- 
dons, the actress, there. She is a woman of excellent 
character, and therefore I am very glad she is thus 
patronised, since Mrs. Abingdon, and so many frail 
fair ones, have been thus noticed by the great. She 
behaved with great propriety ; very calm, modest, 
quiet, and unaffected. She has a very fine counte- 
nance, and her eyes look both intelligent and soft. — 
She hr^ however, a steadiness in her manner and de- 
portment by no means engaging. Mrs. Thrale, who 
was there, said, — ' Why, this is a leaden goddess we 
are all worshipping! however, we shall soon gdd 
it.' " 

Of Mrs. Garrick : " I had a very agreeable evening 



52 MEMOIRS OF 

last Tuesday at Mr. Pepys, where I met Mrs. Gar- 
rick, whom I rejoiced much to see. She had all but 
forgot me ; but when I was introduced to her, by her 
half recollecting and asking who I was, she was ex- 
tremely kind and obliging. She looks very well, and 
very elegant. She was cheerfully grave, did not 
speak much, but was followed and addressed by every 
body. I could not help being quite melancholy my- 
self at sight of her, from remembrance of dear Mr. 
Garrick." 

Of Mrs. Chapone : " Mrs. Chapone herself is the 
most superiorly unaffected creature you can conceive, 
and full of agremens from good sense, talents, and 
conversational powers, in defiance of age, infirmities, 
and uncommon ugliness. I really love as well as ad- 
mire and esteem her." 

To Horace Walpole she alludes in a less compli- 
mentary manner : 

" In the evening came in Mr. Walpole, gay, though 
sarcastic ; polite, though sneering ; and entertainingly . 
epigrarnmatical. I like and admire, but I could not 
love nor trust him." 

In the January of 1783, Miss Burney made one ac- 
quaintance — gained one admiring friend, whose in- 
fluence at a subsequent period changed the whole 
course of her life — her new admirer was Mrs. Delany, 
whose husband had been the intimate friend of Dean 
Swift. Miss Burney gives the following description 
of her first interview with Mrs. Delany : 

" SUNDA.Y, Jan. 19. — And now for Mrs. Delany. I 
spent one hour with Mrs. Thrale, and then called for 
Mrs. Chapone, and we proceeded together to St. 
James's Place. 

" Mrs. Delany was alone in her drawing-room, which 
is entirely hung round with pictures of her own paint- 
ing, and ornaments of her own designing. She came 
to the door to receive us. She is still tall, though some 



MADAME d'aUBLAY. 53 

of her height may be lost : not much, however, for she 
is remarkably upright. She has no remains of beauty 
in feature, but in countenance I never but once saw 
more, and that was in my sweet maternal grandmother. 
Benevolence, softness, piety, and gentleness, are all re- 
sident in her face ; and the resemblance with which 
she struck me to my dear grandmother, in her first ap- 
pearance, grew so much stronger from all that came 
from her in mind, which seems to contain nothing but 
purity and native humihty, that I almost longed to 
embrace her ; and I am sure if I had, the recollection 
of that saint-hke woman would have been so strong, 
that I should never have refrained from crying over her. 
" Mrs. Chapone presented me to her, and taking my 
hand, she said — 

" ' You must pardon me if I give you an old-fashion- 
ed reception, for I know nothing new.' " 

" At about seven o'clock, the Duchess Dowager of 
Portland came. She is not near so old as Mrs. Dela- 
ny, nor, to me, is her face by any means so pleasing ; 
but yet there is sweetness, and dignity, and intelligence 
in it. Mrs. Delany received her with the same re- 
spectful ceremony as if it was her first visit, though 
she regularly goes to her every evening. But what 
she at first took as an honour and condescension, she 
has so much of true humihty of mind, that no use can 
make her see in any other light. She immediately 
presented me to her. Her Grace courtesied and smiled 
with the most flattering air of pleasure, and said she 
was particularly happy in meeting with me." 

In the same year Miss Burney lost her beloved 
friend and counselloi", Mr. Crisp. It was long before 
she recovered her spirits or resumed her journal — the 
first entry after this affliction relates to an alarming 
paralytic seizure of Dr. Johnson : 

"ThuesdaY} June 1.9th. — We heard to-day that 



54 MEMOIRS OF 

Dr. Johnson had been taken ill, in a way that gave a 
dreadful shock to himself, and a most anxious alarm 
to his friends. Mr. Seward brought the news here, 
and my father and I instantly went to his house. He 
had earnestly desired me, when we lived so much to- 
gether at Streatham, to see him frequently if he should 
be ill. He saw my father, but he had medical peo- 
ple with him, and could not admit me up stairs, but 
he sent me down a most kind message, that he thank- 
ed me for calling, and when he was better should ho]ie 
to see me often. I had the satisfaction to hear from 
Mrs. Williams that the physicians had pronounced him 
to be in no danger, and expected a speedy recovery. 

" The stroke was confined to his tongue. Mrs. Wil- 
liams told a most striking and touching circumstance 
that attended the attack. It was at about four o'clock 
in the morning : he found himself with a paralytic af- 
fection ; he rose, and composed in his own mind a La- 
tin prayer to the Almighty, ' that whatever were the 
sufferings for which he must prepare himself, it would 
please Him, through the grace and mediation of our 
blessed Saviour, to spare his intellects, and let them 
all fall upon his body.' When he had composed this, 
internally, he endeavoured to speak it aloud, but found 
his voice w^as gone." 

Dr. Johnson soon recovered from this attack. His 
affection for Miss Barney continued unabated, if we 
may judge from the description she gives her sister of 
a visit paid to him several months afterwards. 

" Thursday, Oct. 29th. — This morning, at break- 
fast, Mr. Hoole called. I wanted to call upon Dr 
Johnson, and it is so disagreeable to me to go to him 
alone, now poor Mrs. Williams is dead, on account of 
the quantity of men always visiting him, that I most 
gladly accepted, and almost asked, his 'squireship. 

" We went together. The dear doctor received me 
with open arms. 



65 

" * Ah, dearest of all dear ladier V he cried, and 
wade me sit in his best chair. 

" He had not breakfasted. 

" ' Do you forgive my coming «o soon 1' said I. 

" * I cannot forgive your no<^ coming sooner,' he an- 
swered, 

'^ I asked if I should makr- his breakfast, which I 
have not done since we left Streatham ; he readily con- 
sented. 

" ' Butj sir,' quoth I> * I am in the wrong chair.' 
For I was away from the table. 

" * It is SQ dilficult,' said he, ' for any thing to be 
wrong that belongs to you, that it can only be I am 
m the wrong chair, to keep you from the right one.' 

" And then we changed. 

" You will see by this how good were his spirits and 
his health. 

" I stayed with him two hours, and could hardly get 
away ; he wanted me to dine with hhn, and said he 
would send home to excuse me ; but I could not pos- 
sibly do that. Yet I left him with real regret." 



CHAPTER V. 

Miss Burney's friendship for Mrs. Thrale threatened with an inter- 
ruption — Miss Burney's defence of her Friend — Mrs. Thrale's Let- 
ter and Visit — The last meeting — Mrs. Thrale's Marriage with 
Rozzi— Letters between her and Miss Burney — An unanswered let- 
ter — The friendship of six years at an end — Dr. Johnson's illness. 
— Affecting interview with Miss Burney — Recovery — His last ill- 
ness — Anecdote of the Coffins — Dr. Jolinson's last hours and death. 

Miss Burney's friendship for Mrs. Thrale was now 
threatened with an interruption. Injurious reports 
were in circulation concerning that amiable lady, but 
her friend still clung to her, and in a letter to Mrs. 



56 MEMOIRS OF 

Phillips, endeavoured, as much as in her power lay, 
to exculpate her conduct. " Saturday, November 22d, 
I passed_," she writes, " in nothing but sorrow — exqui- 
site sorrow, for my dear unhappy friend, who sent me 
one letter that came early by the Bath DiUgence, and 
another by the Post. But of these things no more. 

" I am sorry not to be more explicit, but I should 
not give you more pleasure if I were. I can only tell 
you that I love — Mrs. Thrale with a never-to-cease 
affection, and pity her more than ever I pitied any 
human being ; and, if I did not blame her, I could I 
should, I believe, almost die for her ! 

" 1 am extremely sorry, my dearest Susy, that in 
the late distress of my mind about poor Mrs. Thrale, 
I mentioned any thing that has so much interested 
you to know more. It is too true that many knew 
all, — but none from me. I am bound, and should be 
miserable not to say, if called upon, and not to know, 
if not called upon, that no creature, not even you to 
Avhom I communicate every thing else, nor to the 
trusty Charlotte with whom I live, and who sees my 
frequent distress upon the subject, has tempted me to 
an explanation. General rumour I have no means 
to prevent spreading. * * * * 

" I am still as much bent as ever to go to her, if I 
can obtain leave ; but I will mention no more of the 
matter, since the difficulties under which I labour 
not to offend or afflict that beloved friend, and yet to 
do nothing wrong, are by no means new, though of 
late they have grown doubly painful. I will only 
say further, that though her failings are unaccount- 
able and most unhappy, her virtues and good quali- 
ties, the generosity and feelings of her heart, the 
liberality and sweetness of her disposition, w^ould 
counterbalance a thousand more." 

Mrs. Thrale and Miss Burney met and parted as 
dear friends meet and part, but onco more. Previous 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 57 

to that meeting, Miss Burney received the following 
enthusiastically affectionate letter from Mrs. Thrale : 

" Mortimer Street, Cavendish Square, 
Tuesday Night, May, 1784. 

" I am come, dearest Burney. It is neither dream 
nor fiction ; though I love you dearly, or I would not 
have come. Absence and distance do nothing to- 
wards wearing out real affection ; so you shall always 
find it in your true and tender H. L. T. 

" I am somewhat shaken bodily, but 'tis the men- 
tal shocks that have made me unable to bear the cor- 
poral ones. 'Tis past ten o'clock, however, and I 
must lay myself down with the sweet expectation of 
seeing my charming friend in the morning to break- 
fast. I love Dr. Burney too well to fear him, and 
he loves me too well to say a word which should 
make me love him less." 

Miss Burney, in alluding to Mrs. Thrale's visit, 
says, " The best of the week I devoted almost en- 
tirely to Mrs. Thrale, whose society was truly the 
most delightful of cordials to me ; however, at times, 

mixed with bitters the least palatable. 

* * * * # 

" Were I not sensible of her goodness, and full of 

incurable affection for her, should I not be a monster ? 

* * * * # 

"I parted most reluctantly with my dear Mrs. 
Thrale, whom, when or how I shall see again. Hea- 
ven only knows ! but in sorrow we parted — on my 
side in real affection." 

A few months afterwards, Mrs. Thrale's second 
marriage took place with Mr. Piozzi, and Miss Bur- 
ney went about the same time to Norbury Park, 
where she spent some weeks with Mr. and Mrs. 
Locke. The two following letters then passed be- 
tween Miss Burney and Mrs. Piozzi : — 



5S MEMOIRS OF 

MISS F. BURNEY TO MRS. PIOZZI. 

" Norbury Park, Aug. 10, 1784. 

" When my wondering eyes first looked over the 
letter I received last night, my mind instantly dic- 
tated a high-spirited vindication of the consistency, 
integrity, and faithfulness of the friendship thus ab- 
ruptly reproached and cast away. But a sleepless 
night gave me leisure to recollect that you were ever 
as generous as precipitate, and that your own heart 
would do justice to mine, in the cooler judgment of 
future reflection. Committing myself, therefore, to 
that period, I determined to simply assure you, that 
if my last letter hurt either you or Mr. Piozzi, I am 
no less sorry than surprised ; and that if it offended 
you, I sincerely beg your pardon. 

" Not to that time, however, can I wait to acknow- 
ledge the pain an accusation so unexpected has 
caused me, nor the heartfelt satisfaction with which 
I shall receive, when you are able to write it, a softer 
renewal of regard. 

" May Heaven direct and bless you ! F. B. 

" N. B. This is the sketch of ^he answer which 
F. B. most painfully wrote to the unmerited reproach 
of not sending cordial congratulations upon a mar- 
riage which she had uniformly, openly, and with 
deep and avowed affliction, thought wrong." 

MRS. PIOZZI TO MISS BURNEY. 

" Wellbeck Street, No. 33, Cavendish Square. 
Friday, Aug. 13, 1784. 

" Give youself no serious concern, sweetest Burney. 
All is well, and I am too happy myself to make a 
friend otherwise ; quiet your kind heart immediately, 
and love my husband if you love his and your 

" H. L. Piozzi." 

To this affectionate note. Miss Burney wrote a 
warm answer, to which she never received a reply ! 



MADAME D^ARBLAY. 69 

And here and thus stopped a correspondence of six 
years of almost unequalled partiality and fondness, 
on the side of Mrs. Thrale, and affection, gratitude, 
admiration and sincerity, on that of Miss Burney, who 
could only conjecture the cessation to be caused by 
the resentment of Pioz^i, when informed of her con- 
stant opposition to the union. 

In December 1783 Dr. Johnson was again taken 
ill. Miss Burney gives an affecting account of her 
interview with him. 

" Tuesday, Dec. 30.-^1 went to Dr. Johnson and 
sp^nt the evening with him. He was very indifferent 
indeed. There were some very disagreeable people 
with him ; and he once affected me very much, by 
turning suddenly to me, and grasping my hand, and 
saying,— 

" ' The blister I have tried for my breath has be- 
trayed some very bad tokens ; but I will not terrify 
myself by talking of ihem; ah, priez Dieu pour moil' 

*' You may believe I promised that I would ! Good 
and excellent as he is, how can he so fear death ? — 
Alas, my dear Susy, how awful is that idea ! He 
was quite touchingly affectionate to me. How ear- 
nestly I hope for his recovery !" 

Dr. Johnson once more recovered, and appears to 
have enjoyed very tolerable health for nearly a year. 
His next serious illness, and his last, occurred in No- 
vember, 1784. Miss Burney had many interesting 
interviev/s with him which she mentions in her diary 
We have extracted them, as they cannot fail to be 
interesting to all classes of readers. 

" Last Thursday, Nov. 25th, my father set me down 
at Bolt Court, wl '^le he went on upon business. I 
was anxious to again see poor Dr. Johnson, who has 
had terrible health since his return from Litchfield. 
He let me in, though very ill. He was alone, which 
I much rejoiced at -, for I had a longer and more satis- 



60 MEMOIRS OF 

factory conversation with him than I have had for 
many months. He was in rather better spirits, too, 
than I have lately seen him ; but he told me he was 
going to try what sleeping out of town might do for 
him. 

" ' I remember,' said he, ' that my wife when she 
was near her end, poor woman, was also advised to 
sleep out of town ; and when she was carried to the 
lodgings that had been prepared for her, she com- 
plained that the staircase was in very bad condition ; 
for the plaster was beaten off the walls in many pla- 
ces. * Oh,' said the man of the house, ^ that's no- 
thing but by the knocks against it of the coffins of 
the poor souis that have died in the lodgings I' " 

" He laughed, though not without apparent secret 
anguish, in telling me this. I felt extremely shocked, 
but willing to confine my words at least to the literal 
story, I only exclaimed against the unfeehng absurdi- 
ty of such a confession." 

******* 

" Thursday mor?w"n^.*-*-I have been a second time 
to see poor Dr. Johnson, and both times he was too 
ill to admit me. I knew how very much worse he 
must be, for when I saw him last, which was the 
morning before I went to Norbury, he repeatedly and 
even earnestly begged me to come to him again, and 
to see him both as soon and as often as I could. I 
am told by Mr. Hoole, that he inquired of Dr. Brock* 
lesby if he thought it likely he might live six weeks ? 
and the doctor's hesitation saying No, he has been 
more deeply depressed than ever. Fearing death as 
he does, no one can wonder. Why he should fear it, 

all may wonder." 

******** 

" St. Martin's Street, Wednesday, Dec. 10th. 
—I went in the evening to poor Dr. Johnson. Frank 
told me he was very ill, but let me in. He would 



61 

have taken me up stairs, but I would not see him 
without his direct permission. I desired Frank to 
tell him I called to pay my respects to him, but not 
to disturb him if he was not well enough to see me. 
Mr. Strahan, a clergyman, he said, was with him 
alone. 

"In a few minutes, this Mr. Strahan came to me 
himself. He told me Dr. Johnson was very ill, very 
much obliged to me for coming, but so weak and bad 
he hoped I would excuse his not seeing me. 

" Dear, dear, and much reverenced Dr. Johnson ! 
how ill or how low must he be, to decline seeing a 
creature he has so constantly, so fondly, called about 
him ! If I do not see him again I shall be truly af- 
flicted. And I fear, I almost know, I cannot ! 

^ TT •9r TT "TT tt 

" At night my father brought us the most dismal ti- 
dings of dear Dr. Johnson. Dr. Warren had seen 
him, and told him to take what opium he pleased ! 
He had thanked and taken leave of all his physicians ! 
Alas ! I shall lose him, and he will take no leave of 
me ! I hear from every one he is now perfectly re- 
signed to his approaching fate, and no longer in ter- 
ror of death. I am thankfully happy in hearing that 
he speaks himself now of the change his mind has 
undergone from its dark horror, and says — ' He feels 
the irradiation of hope !' Good, and pious, and ex- 
cellent christian — who shall feel it if not he '? 

" Dec. 11th. — We had a party to dinner, by long 
appointment, for which, indeed, none of us were well 
disposed, the apprehension of hearing news only of 
death being hard upon us all. 

"The day could not be well ; but mark the night. 

" My father, in the morning, saw this first of men ! 
I had not his account till bedtime ; he feared over-ex- 
citing me. He would not, he said, but have seen 
him for worlds ! He happened to be better, and ad- 



62 MEMOIRS OF 

mitted him. He was up, and very composed. He 
took his hand very kindly, asked after his family, and 
then, in particular, how Fanny did ? 

" ' I hope,' he said, Fanny did not take it amiss that 
I did not see her ? I was very bad !' 

" Amiss ! what a word ! Oh, that I had been pre- 
sent to have answered it ! My father stayed, 1 sup- 
pose, half an hour, and then was coming away. He 
again took his hand, and encouraged him to come 
again to him ; and when he was taking leave, said — 
* Tell Fanny to pray for me !' 

" Ah ! dear Dr. Johnson ! might I but have your 
prayers ! After which, still grasping his hand, he 
made a prayer for himself, — the most fervent, pious, 
humble, eloquent, and touching, my father says, that 
ever was composed. Oh, would I had heard it ! He 
ended it with Amen ! in which my father joined, and 
was echoed by all present. And again, when my 
father was leaving him, he brightened up, something 
of his arch look returned, and he said — * I think I 
shall throw the ball at Fanny yet !' 

" Little more passed ere my father came away, de- 
cided, most tenderly, not to tell me this till our party 
was gone. 

" This most earnestly increased my desire to see 
him ; this kind and frequent mention of me melted 
me into double sorrow and regret. I would give the 
world I had but gone to him that day ! It was, how- 
ever, impossible, and the day was over before I knew 
he had said what I look upon as a call to me. 1 his 
morning, after church time, I went. Frank said he 
was very ill, and saw nobody ; 1 told him I had un- 
derstood by my father the day before that he meant 
to see me. He then let me in. I went into his room, 
up stairs ; he was in his bedroom. I saw it crowded, 
and ran hastily down. Frank told me his master had i 
refused seeing even Mr. Langton. I told him merely 



63 

to say I had called, but by no means to press my ad- 
mission. His own feelings were all that should be 
consulted ; his tenderness, I knew, w^ould be equal, 
whether he was able to see me or not. 

" I went into the parlour, preferring being alone 
in the cold, to any company with a fire. Here I 
waited long, here and upon the stairs, which I ascen- 
ded and descended to meet again with Frank, and 
make inquiries ; but I met him not. At last, upon 
Dr. Johnson's ringing his bell, I saw Frank enter his 
room, and Mr. Langton follow. ' Who's that V I 
heard him say ; they answered, ' Mr. Langton,' and I 
found he did not return. 

" Soon after, all the rest went away but a Mrs. 
Davis, a good sort of woman, whom this truly charit- 
able soul had sent for to take a dinner at his house. 
I then went and waited with her by the fire : it was, 
however, between three and four o'clock before I got 
any answer. Mr. Langton then came himself. He 
could not look at me, and I turned away from him. 
Mrs. Davis asked how the Doctor was ? * Going on 
to death very fast !' was his mournful answer. * Has 
he taken,' said she, * any thing V Nothing at all ! 
"We carried him some bread and milk — he refused it, 
and said, ' The less the better.' She asked more ques- 
tions, by which I found his faculties w^ei e perfect, his 
mind composed, and his dissolution was quick draw- 
ing on." 

***** 

" I could not immediately go on, and it is now long 
since I have WTitten at all ; but I will go back to this 
afflicting theme, which I can now better bear. 

" Mr. Langton was, I beheve, a quarter of an hour 
in the room before I suspected he meant to speak to 
me, never looking near me. At last he said — 

" ' This poor man, I understand, ma'am, desired 
yesterday to see you.' 



64 MEMOIRS OF 

*' ' My understanding that, sir, brought me to-day.* 

" ^ Poor man ! it is a pity he did not know himself 
better, and that you should have had this trouble.' 

" * Trouble !' cried I ; ' I would come a hundred 
times to see him the hundredth and first !' 

" VHe hopes, now, you will excuse him ; he is ve- 
ry sorry not to see you ; but he desired me to come 
and speak to you myself, and tell you he hopes you 
will excuse him, for he feels himself too weak for 
such an interview.' 

" I hastily got up, left him my most affectionate re- 
spects, and every good wish I could half utter, and 
ran back to the coach. Ah, my Susy ! I have never 
been to Bolt Court since ! I then drove to poor Miss 
Strange, to make inquiries of the maid ; but Andrew 
ran out to the coach door, and told me all hope was 
at an end. In short, the next day was fatal to both ! 

the same day !" 

***** 

"Dec. 20th. — This day was the ever-honoured, 
ever-lamented Dr. Johnson committed to the earth. 
Oh, how sad a day to me ! My father attended, and 
so did Charles. I could not keep my eyes dry all 
day ; nor can I now, in the recollecting it ; but let 
me pass over what to mourn is now so vain !' 



MADAME d'arBLAY. 65 



CHAPTER VI. 

Miss Buraey's acquaintance with Madame de Genlis — Madame de 
Geulis's note — M^s. Delany — The Queen's loom, and the King's 
gold knitting-needle — Death of the Duchess Dowager of Portland 
Mrs. Dslany's grief, and Miss Biirney's consolatory attentions — 
Kindness of King George and Queen Charlotte to Mrs. Delaiiy — 
The two dried leaves — Mrs. Delany's house at Windsor — Project- 
ed visit of the Princesses to Miss Burney — The King and Queen's 
mention of her — Miss Burney at Windsor — Queen Charlotte re- 
peruses " Cecilia"— Mrs. Delany's injunctions to Miss Burney 
respecting the Royal Family — Miss Burney's first interviev/ with 
the King and Queen — Puss in the corner — Cross-questioning — Cha- 
racter of the King and Queen — Their affection for each other — 
Miss Burney's second interview. 

During the spring of 1785, Dr. Burney and his 
daughter became acquainted with the celebrated Ma- 
dame de Genlis, who was then visiting England, and 
who eagerly sought for the friendship of Miss Burney. 
In a letter to Mrs. Phillips. Miss Burney mentions 
her new friend, but very briefly. 

'' St. Martin's-street. 

" I have been this whole morning with Madame de 
Genlis, the sweetest as well as most accomplished 
French woman I ever met. Were my time and mind 
more disengaged, I would send you an account of her, 
highly interesting both for you and Mr. and Mrs. 
Locke ; but I have neither leisure nor spirits for jour- 
nalising." 

A noce from Madame de Genlis Was carefully pre- 
served by Miss Burney as a memorial of so attractive 
a person. 

MADAME DE GENLIS TO MISS BURNEY. 

"CeVendredi, 15 Juillet, 1785. 
" Combien j*ai ete fachee, ma chere amie, de n'a- 
voir pu jouir du plaisir de vous recevoir ; mais je 
dinois avec des personnes qu'il m'etoit impossible de 
quitter. Ptecevez vous mes rem.ercimens clu precieux 
present que vous m'avez fait, et chargez vous d'ex- 
primer a monsieur votre pere toute la reconnoissance 



66 MEMOIRS OF 

que je lui dois. Je sais combien son ouvrage est esti* 
mable ; il sera pour moi doublement interessent, et je 
me flatte que vons en devinerez facilcinent la raison. 
Je pars dans I'instant pour Oxford ; adieu, ma chere 
amie ; n- oubliez pas que vous avez pris I'engagement 
de m'aimer. Pour moi, je vous aime depuis i'instant 
ou j'ai ]u Evelina et Cecilia, et le bonheur de vous 
entendre et de vous connoitre personneliement, a ren- 
du ce sentiment aussi tendre qu' il est bien fonde." 

The acquaintance, however, was not kept up. They 
were not at this time thrown in each other's way, and 
afterwards, such tales, whether true or false, were 
forced into the unwilling ears of Miss Burney, that, to 
use her own words, " notwithstanding the most ardent 
admiration of Madame de Genlis's talents, and a zest 
yet greater for her engaging society and elegantly 
lively and winning manners, yet she dared no longer 
come within the precincts of her fascinating allure- 
ments." — " In France, equally, she felt compelled to 
keep aloof, though most reluctantly." 

Miss Burney's attachment to the kind and delight- 
ful Mrs. Delany daily increased. In the early part of 
their acquaintance, she makes the following allusion 
to her : 

" Thursday, Jan. 18th. — I dined with Mrs. Delany. 
The venerable and excellent old lady received me 
with open arms, and we kissed one another as if she 
had been my sweet grandmother, whom she always 
reminds me of. She looks as well as ever, only rather 
thinner ; but she is as lively, gay, pleasant, good- 
humored, and animated, as at eighteen. She sees, 
she says, much worse ; * but I am thankful,' she ad- 
ded, cheerfully, ' I can see at all at my age. My 
greatest loss is the countenance of my friends ; howe- 
rer, to see even the light is a great blessing. 

" She showed me a most excellent and ingenioas 



Madame iJ'arbLay* 6^ 

loom, which the Queen made her a present of last 
summer, at Winilsor, for making fringe ; and a gold 
knitting-needle given her by the King. And she told 
me the whole history of their manner of presenting 
them, with a sort of g':-ateful simplicity that was quite 
affecting. Did I ever tell you of the letter the Queen 
wrote her, when she gave her a beautiful case of 
instruments for her curious works ? She signed it her 
' atfectionate Queen.' I quite reverence the Queen 
for her sense of Mrs. Delany's merit. 

In 1785, Mrs. Delany lost her almost worshipped 
friend, the Duchess Dowager of Portland. Miss Bur- 
ney took the place of a child to the kind old lady, and 
became both her consoler and attendant. In a letter 
from Miss Burney to her father, she gives a vivid 
description of the delicate consideration and kindness 
which Mrs. Delany received from King George III. 
and Queen Charlotte. 

MISS F, BURNEY TO DR. BURNEY. 

" St. James' Place, August 24th, 1785. 

'' I have been very much alarmed, dearest sir, these 
last four days, by a feverish attack which dear Mrs. 
Delany has suffered. Unfortunately none of her 
physical assistants were in town ; however she is now, 
thank Heaven ! recovering, and if there is no relapse, 
will soon, I hope, be well. 

" I must tell you, dearest sir, a tale concerning het 
which I am sure you will hear with true pleasure. 
Among the many inferior losses which have been in- 
cluded in her great and irreparable calamity, has been 
that of a country-house for summer, which she had in 
Bulstrode, and which for the half of every year was 
her constant home. The Duke of Portland behaved 
with the utmost propriety and feeling upon this occa- 
sion, and was most anxious to accommodate her to 
the best of his power, with every comfort to which 
she had been ace jstomed ; but this noblest of women 



68 MEMOIRS? Of 

declared she loved the memory of her friend beyond 
all other things, and would not suffer it to be tainted 
in the misjudging world by an action that would be 
construed into a reflection upon her will, as if deficient 
in consideration to her. ' And I will not,' said she to 
me, ' suffer the children of my dearest friend to sup- 
pose that their mother left undone any thing she ought 
to have done. She did not ; 1 knew her best, and I 
knew she did what she was sure I should most ap- 
prove.' She steadily, therefore, refused all offers, 
though made to her with even painful earnestness, 
and though solicited till her refusal became a distress 
to herself. 

"This transa n was related, I beheve to their 
majesties ; and Lady Weymouth, the Duchess's eldest 
daughter, was commissioned to wait upon Mrs. Delany 
with this message :— That the Queen was extremely 
anxious about her her 1th, and very apprehensive lest 
continuing in London Juring the summer should be 
prejudicial to it : she entreated her, therefore, to accept 
a house belonging to the king at Windsor, which she 
should order to be fitted up for her immediately j 
and she desired Lady Weymouth to give her time to 
consider this proposal, and by no means to hurry her ; 
as well as to assure her, that happy as it would make 
her to have one she so sincerely esteemed for a neigh- 
bour, she should remember her situation, and promise 
not to be troublesome to her. The King, at the same 
time, desired to be allowed to stand to the additional 
expenses incurred by the maintenance of tv/o houses, 
and that Mrs. Delany would accept from him <£300 
a-year. 

" It would be needless to tell you how Mrs. Delany 
was touched by this benevolence : for no creature has 
heard it without emotion, and I am sure my dear fa- 
ther will not be the first. Yet she dreaded acceptmg 
what she feared would involve her in a new course of 



69 

life, and force her into notice or connexions she wished 
to drop or avoid. She took the time the Queen so 
considerately gave her for deUberation, and she con- 
sulted with some of her old friends. They all agreed 
there must be no refusal, and after many circumstan- 
ces too long for writing, though otherwise well worth 
knowing, Lady Weymouth was made the messenger 
of her Majesty's ofter being accepted. 

" The house, therefore, is now fitting up, and the 
King sees after the workmen himself." 

The followmg extract is from a letter of a little 
later date. 

" My dear Mrs. Delany has gone on mending 
gradually ever since I wrote last. She is employing 
me, when able, to look over her papers : 'tis to me a 
sacred task, for she cannot read what she is trusting 
me with. Sometimes, with a magnifying glass she 
examines, first, if what she is giving me is some man- 
uscript of secrecy, with respect to the affairs or char- 
acter of her friends ; and as a word suffices to inform 
her, she destroys unread, whatever is of that sort. 
But this, though a business she wishes to have done, 
produces letters and memorandums too affecting for 
her spirits. Yet she never, but by persuasion, leaves 
off; she seems bent upon subduing all emotions but 
those that might give pain to others by their suppres- 
sion. I frequently court her to sadness, for her exer- 
tions make me tremble more than her tears ; yet 
those, when they do fall, I can hardly, indeed, with 
all her example before my eyes, bear to look at. 

" Just now we have both of us been quite overset. 
In examining some papers in a pocket-book, she 
opened one with two leaves dried in it ; she held them 
a little while in silence, but very calmly, in her hand, 
yet as something 1 saw she highly prized : she then 
bade me read what was written on the envelope ; — it 
was, I think, these words — ' Two leaves picked at 



70 MEMOIRS OF 

Balsover, by the Duch-^ss of Portland and myself, in 
September, 1756, the 20th year of our ixiost intimate 
and dear friendship.' I could hardly read to her the 
last words, and, upon hearing them, for a little while 
she sunk. But I hastened, the moment I could, to 
other less interesting papers, and she forced her atten- 
tion to them with a strength of resolution that makes 
me honour as much as I love her. 

" To me alone, she kindly says, she gives way to 
any indulgence of sorrow ; she fears being misunder- 
stood and thought repining by most others ; and, in- 
deed, the rest of her friends spending with her but a 
short time^ she thinks it her duty to study their com- 
fort, by appearing composed to them. Mine, she justly 
and sweetly sees, can only be studied by what is most 
relief to herself. The nobleness of her mind can never 
have had such opportunity of displaying itself as dur- 
ing this last month ; and in the numberless instances 
in which it now appears, she seems already raised to 
that height I am still selfishly trying to keep her from 
yet reaching. 

" All our movements are at present uncertain ; her 
Windsor house is still unfinished, but I suppose it will 
be fit for her reception by the beginning of next week, 
and I have the happiest reasons for hoping she will 
then be fit for it herself. Her maid has been to see 
what forwardness it is in, and this was her report : — 
She was ordered to wait upon Miss Golds worthy, by 
the King's direction, who heard of her being sent to 
inspect the house ; and there she received commands, 
in the name of both King and Queen, to see that Mrs, 
Delany brought with her nothing but herself and 
dotheSy as they insisted upon fitting up her habitation 
with every thing themselves, including not only plate, 
china, glass, and linen, but even all sorts of stores — 
wine, sweetmeats, pickles, &c. &c. Their earnest- 
ness to save her every care, and give her every grati- 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 71 

fication in their power, is truly benevolent and amia- 
ble. They seem to know and feel her worth as if 
they had never worn crowns, or, wearing, annexed no 
value to them." 

Miss Burney soon joined Mrs. Delany at Windsor, 
and the first information she received, on her arrival, 

from Miss P , the niece of iJrs. Delany, was that 

"all the Princesses intended to come and see her," 
At this information, her timidity rendered her more 
alarmed than her vanity could make her delighted. 

Mrs. Delany also acquainted her that the Queen in 
their first interview said to her, " why did not you 
bring your friend Miss Burney with you V Mrs. 
Delany was very much gratified by this question, but 
replied, that in coming to a house of her Majesty's 
she could not presume to ask anybody without imme- 
diate and especial permission. When she saw the 
King, he made the same inquiry. 

As soon as Mrs. Delany arrived at Windsor, Queen 
Charlotte, (who had already perused Miss Burney 's 
works,) ordered " Cecilia" to be read to her again. 
Miss Burney was several days at Windsor without 
encountering any of the royal family, and indeed, she 
had an unaffected dread of being presented to their 
Majesties. Mrs. Delany, however, soon informed her 
that the Queen made such frequent mention of her, 
and seemed to take cuch interest in her works, that it 
\vas very probable that she would shortly be summon- 
ed to the royal presence. 

" 'I do beg of you,' said Mrs. Delany,' when the 
Queen or the King speak to you, not to answer with 
monosyllables. The Queen often complains to me of 
the difficulty w^ith which she can get any conversa- 
tion, as she not only has to start the subjects, but 
commonly entirely to support them ; and she says 
there is nothing she so much loves as conversation, 
and nothing she finds so hard to get She is always 



TZ MEMOIRS OF 

best pleased to have the answers that are made lead 
on to further discourse. Now, as I know she wishes 
to be further acquainted with you, and converse with 
you, I do really entreat you do not draw back from 
her, nor stop conversation with only answering * yes ' 
or 'no.'" 

Upon these directions Miss Burney comments, by 
saying : " This was a most tremendous injunction ; 
however, I could not but promise her I would do the 
best I could. 

" To this, nevertheless, she readily agreed, that if, 
upon entering the room, they should take no notice 
of me, I might retire. And that, believe me, will 
not be very slowly ! They can not find me in this 
house without knowing who I am, and therefore they 
can be at no loss whether to speak to me or not, 
from incertitude. 

" In the midst of all this, the Queen came ! 

" I heard the thunder at the door, and, panic-struckj 
away fell all my resolutions and agreements, and 
away after them flew I ! 

" Don't be angry, my dear father — I would have 
stayed if I could, and I meant to stay ; but, when 
the moment came, neither my preparations nor inten- 
tions availed, and I arrived at my own room, ere I 
well knew I had left the drawing-room, and quite 
breathless between the race I ran with Miss Port and 
the joy of escaping. 

" Mrs. Delany, though a little vexed at the time, 
was not afterwartls, when she found the Queen very 
much dispirited by a relapse of the poor Princess 
Elizabeth. She inquired if I was returned, and 
hoped I now came to make a longer stay." 

The following is Miss Burney's own description of 
her first interview with the King and Queen : 

" Friday, Dec. 16th. — Yesterday morning we had 
a much better account of the Princess Elizabeth ; 
and Mrs. Delany said to me. 



73 

*^ * Now you will escape no longer, for if their 
uneasiness ceases, I am sure they will send for you, 
when they come next.' 

" To be sent for, I confessed to her, would really 
be more formidable than to be surprised ; but to pre- 
tend to be surprised would answer no purpose in 
making the meeting easy to mc, and therefore I pre- 
ferred letting the matter take its chance. 

" After dinner, while Mrs. Delany was left alone, 
as usual, to take a little rest, — for sleep it but seldom 
proves, — Mr. B. Dewes, liis little daughter. Miss 
Port, and myself, went into the drawing-room. And 
here, while, to pass the time, I was amusing the little 
girl with teaching her some Christmas games, in 
which her father and cousin joined, Mrs. Delany came 
in. We were all in the middle of the room, and in 
some confusion ; — but she had but just come up to 
us to inquire what was going forwards, and I was 
disentangling myself from Miss Dewes, to be ready 
to fly off if any one knocked at the street-door, when 
the door of the drawing-room was again opened, 
and a large man, in deep mourning, appeared at it, 
entering and shutting it himself without speaking. 

" A ghost could not more have scared me, when I 
discovered, by its glitter on the " ck, a star! The 
general disorder had prevented his being seen, except 
by myself, who was always on the watch, till Miss 

P , turning round, exclaimed, ^ the King ! — Aunt, 

the King !' 

" O mercy ! thought I, that I were but out of the 
room I which way shall I escape ? and hov>r pass him 
unnoticed ? There is but the single door at which 
he entered in the room ! Every one scampered out 

of the way : Miss P , to stand next the door ; 

Mr. Bernard Dewes to a corner opposite it ; his little 
girl clung to me ; and Mrs. Delany advanced to meet 
his Majesty, who, after quietly looking on till she 
saw him, approached, and inquired how she did. (g) 



74 MEMOIRS OF 

" He then spoke to Mr. Bernard, whom he had 
akeady met two or three times here. 

" I had now retreated to the wall, and purposed 
gliding softly, though speedily, out of the room ; but 
before I had taken a single step, the King, in a loud 
whisper to Mrs. Delany, said, ' Is that Miss Burney V 
— and on her answering, ' Yes, sir,' he bowed, and 
with a countenance of the most perfect good-humour, 
came close up to me. 

" A most profound reverence on my part arrested 
the progress of my intended retreat. 

" ' How long have you been come back. Miss 
Burney V 

" ' Two days, sir.' 

"Llnluckily he did not hear me, and repeated his 
question ; and whether the second time he heard me 
or not, I don't know, but he made a little civil incli- 
nation of his head, and went back to Mrs. Delany. 
* * * * * * * 

" The Christmas games we had been showing Miss 
Dewes, it seemed as if we were still performing, as 
none of us thought it proper to move, though our man- 
ner of standing reminded one of puss in the corner. 

Close to the door was posted Miss P ; opposite 

her, close to the wainscot, stood Mr. Dewes , at just 
an equal distance from him, close to a window, stood 
myself; Mrs. Delany, though seated, was at the oppo- 
site side to Miss ', and his Majesty kept pretty 

much in the middle oi" the room. The little girl, who 
kept close to me, did not break the order, and I could 
hardly help expecting to be beckoned with a puss ! 
puss ! puss ! to change places with one of my neigh- 
L ours. 

" This idea afterwards gave way to another more 
pompous. It seemed to me we were acting a play 
There is something so little like common and real life 
in everybody's standing, while talking, in a room full 



75 

of chairs, and standing, too, aloof from each other, 
that I ahnost thought myself upon a stage, assisting 
in the representation of a tragedy, — in which the King 
played his own part of the king ; Mrs. Delany that 
of a venerable confidante ; Mr. Dewes, his respectful 

attendant ; Miss P , a suppliant virgin, waiting 

encouragement to bring forward some petition ; Miss 
Dewes, a young orphan, intended to move the royal 
compassion ; and myself — a very solemn, sober, and 
decent mute. 

" These fancies, however, only regaled me while I 
continued a quiet spectator, and without expectation 
of being called into play. But the King, I have rea- 
son to think, meant only to give me time to recover 
from my first embarrassment ; and I feel myself infi- 
nitely obligjed to his good breeding and consideration, 
which perfectly answered, for before he returned to 
me I was entirely recruited. 

" To go back to my narration. 

" When the discourse upon health and strength 
was over, the King went up to the table, and looked 
at a book of prints, from Claude Lorraine, which had 
been brought down for Miss Dewes ; but Mrs. Delany, 
by mistake, told him they were for me. He turned 
over a leaf or two, and then said — 

" ' Pray, does Miss Burney draAV, too V 

" The too was pronounced rather civilly. 

" ' I believe not, sir,' answ^ered Mrs. Delany ; ' at 
least, she does not tell.' 

" ' Oh ! ' cried he, laughing, ' that's nothing ! she is 
not apt to tell ; she never does tell, you know ! — Her 
father told me that himself. He told me the whole 
history of her Evelina. And I shall never forget his 
face w^hen he spoke of his feelings at first taking up 
the book ! — he looked quite frightened, just as if he 
was doing it that moment ! I never can forget his 
face while I live ! ' 



76 MEMOIRS OF 

" Tben coming up quite close to me, he said — 

" ' Lut what ?— what ? — how was it V 

" ' Sir ' — cried I, not well understanding him. 

" ^ How came you — how happened it — what? 
—what V 

" * I — I only wrote, sir, for my own amusement, — 
only in some odd, idle hours.' 

" * But your publishing — ^your printing, — how was 
that?' 

" * That was only, sir,— only because ' 

" I hesitated most abominably, not knowing how to 
tell him a long story, and growing terribly confused 
at these questions ; besides — to say the truth, his own 
* what 1 what V so r; minded me of those vile Proba- 
tionary Odes, that, in the midst of all my flutter, I was 
really hardly able to keep my countenance. 

" The W licit ! was then repeated, with so earnest a 
look, that, forced to say something, I stammeringly 
answered— 

" ^ I thought — sir — it would look very well in print !' 

" I do really flatter myself this is the silliest speech 
I ever made ! I am qaite provoked with myself for 
it ; but a fear of laughing made me eager to utter 
anything, and by no means conscious, till I had spo- 
ken, of what I was saying. 

" He laughed very heartily himself, — well he might 
— and walked away to enjoy it, crying out, 

" < Very fair, indeed ! that's being very fair and 
honest 1 ' 

" Then, returnin t; to me again, he said, 

"* But your fa; . — how came you not to show 
him what you wrote V 

" * I was too much ashamed of it, sir, seriously.' 

" Literal truth that, I am sure. 

" ' And how came h ^ to find it out V 

" ' I don't know myself, sir. He never v/ould tell me.' 

" Literal truth again, my dear father, as you can 
testify. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. , 77 

" ' But how did you get it printed V 

" ' I sent it, sir, to a bookseller my father never 
employed, and that I never had seen myself, Mr. 
Lowndes, in full hope by that means he never would 
hear of it.' 

" ' But how could you manage that V 

' " By means of a brother, sir.' 

" * Oh !— you confided in a brother, then V 

'^' Yes, sir — that is, for the publication.' 

" ' What entertainment you must have had from 
hearing people's conjectures, before you were known I 
Do you remember any of them V 

" ' Yes, sir, many.' 

" ' And what V 

" ' I heard that Mr. Baretti laid a wager it was 
written by a man ; for no woman, he said, could have 
kept her own counsel.' 

" This diverted him extremely. 

'" ' But how was it,' he continued, ' you thought 
most likely for your father to discover you V 

" ' Sometimes, sir, I have supposed I must have 
dropt some of the manuscript ; sometimes, that one 
of my sisters betrayed me.' 

" ' ! your sister ? — what, not your brother V 

*' ' No, sir ; he could not, for — ' 

" I was going on, but he laughed so much I could 
not be heard, exclaiming, 

" ' Vastly well I I see you are of Mr. Baretti's mind, 
and think your brother could keep your secret, and 
not your sister V 

" * Well, but,' cried he presently, ' how was it first 
known to you, you were betrayed V 

" ' By a letter, sir, from another sister. I was very 
ill, and in the country ; and she wrote me word that 
my father had taken up a review, in which the book 
was mentioned, and had put his finger upon its name, 
and said — ' Contrive to get that book for me.' 



78 Memoirs of 

" ' And when he got it/ cried the King, ' he told 
me he was afraid of looking at it ! and never can I 
forget his face when he mentioned his first opening it. 
But you have not kept your pen unemployed all this 
time?' 

'' ' Indeed I have, sir.' 

"'But why? 

" * I-^I believe I have exhausted myself, sir.* 

" He laughed aloud at this, and went and told it to 
Mrs. Delany, civilly treating a plain fact as a mere 
bon mot. 

" Then, returning to me again, he said, more seri- 
ously, ' But you have not determined against writing 
any more'?' 

"*N— 0, sir— ' 

" * You have made no vow — no real resolution of 
that sort V 

" ' No, sir.' 

"'You only wait for inclination V 

" How admirably Mr. Cambridge's speech might 
have come in here ! 

"'No, sir.' 

" A very civil httle bow spoke him pleased with 
thi? answer, and he went again to the middle of the 
room, where he chiefly stood, and addressing us in 
general, talked upon the different motives of writing, 
concluding with, 

"' I believe there is no constraint to be put upon 
real genius ; nothing but inclination can set it to work. 
Miss Burney, howev'-r, knows best.' And then, has- 
tily returning to me, he cried, " What ? what V 

" ' I — I— believe not, certainly,' qucth I, very awk- 
wardly, for I seemed taking a violent compliment on- 
ly as my due ; but I knew not how to put him off as 
I would another person. 

" He then made some inquiries concerning the pic- 
tures with which the room is hung, and which are all 



79 

Mrs. Delany's own painting ; and a little discourse 
followed, upon some of the masters whose pictures she 
has copied. 

" This was all with her ; for nobody ever answers 
him without being immediately addressed by him. 

" He then came to me again, and said, 

^' * Is your father about any thing at present V 

" ' Yes, sir, he goes on, when he has time, with his 
history.' 

" ' Does he write quick V 

" 'Yes, sir, when he writes from himself ; but in 
his history, he has so many books to consult, that 
sometimes he spends three days in finding authorities 
for a single passage., 

" « Very true ; that must be unavoidable.' 

" He pursued these inquiries some time, and then 
went again to his general station before the fire, and 
Mrs. Delany inquired if he meant to hunt the next 
day. 'Yes,' he answered, and a little pointed, Mrs. 
Delany said, 

" ' I would the hunted could feel as much pleasure 
as the hunter.' 

" The King understood her, and with some quick- 
ness, called out, ' Pray, what did you hunt V 

" Then looking round at us all, — 

" ' Did you know,' he said, * that Mrs Delany once 
hunted herself ? — and in a long gown, and a great 
hoop V 

" It seems she had told his Majesty an adventure of 
that sort which had befallen her in her youth, from 
some accident in \vhich her will bad no share. 

'• While this was talking over, a violent thunder 
was made at the door. I was almost certain it was 
the Queen. Once more I would have given anything 
to escape ; but in vain. I had been informed that 
nobody ever quitted the royal presence, after having 
been conversed with, till motioned to withdraw. 



80 MEMOIRS OF 

" Miss P -, according to established etiquette on 

these occasions, opened the door which she stood 
next, by putting her hand behind her, and slid out 
backwards, into the hall to light the Queen in. The j 
door soon opened again, and the Queen entered. 

" ' Oh, your Majesty is here !' 

" ^ Yes,' he cried, ' I ran here without speaking to > 
any body.' 

" The Queen had been at the lower Lodge to see : 
the Princess Ehzabeth, as the King had before told ' 
us 

" She hastened up to Mrs. Delany, with both her 
hands held out, saying, 

" * My dear Mrs. Delany, how are you?' 

^^ Instantly after, I felt her eye on my face. I be- 
lieve, too, shecourtsied to me; but though I saw the 
bend, I was too near-sighted to be sure it was intend- 
ed for me. I was hardly ever in a situation more em- 
barrassing ; I dared not return what I was not cer^ 
tain I had received, yet considered myself as appear- 
ing quite a monster, to stand stiff-necked, if really 
meant. 

" Almost at the same moment, she spoke to Mr. 
Bernard Dewes, and then nodded to my little clinging 
girl. 

" I was now really ready to sink, with horrid un- 
certainty of what I was doing, or what I. should do,— 
'when his Majesty, who I fancy saw my distress, most 
good-humoured ly said to the Queen something, but I 
v/as too much flurried to remember what, except these 
words, — 'I have been telling Miss Burney ' 

*" Relieved from so painful a dilemma, I immedi- 
ately dropped a courtesy. 

'^ She made one to rae in the same moment, and, with 
a very smiling countenance, came up to me ; but she 
could not speak, for the King went on talking, eager- 
ly, and very gaily, repeating to her every word I had 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 81 

said during our conversation upon Evelina, its publi- 
cation, &c. &c. 

" Then he told her of Barretti's wager, saying — ' But 
she heard of a great many conjectures about the au- 
thor, before it was known, and of Baretti, an admira- 
ble thing ! he laid a bet it must be a man, as no w^o- 
man, he said, could have kept her own counsel !' 

" The Queen, laughing a little, exclaimed' 

" * Oh, that is quite too bad an affront to us ! Don't 
you think so V addressing herself to me, with great 
gentleness of voice and manner. 

" I assented ; and the King continued his relation, 
which she listened to with a look of some interest ; 
but when he told her some particulars of my secrecy, 
she again spoke to me. 

" ' But your sister was your confidant, was she not V 

" ' Yes, ma'am.' 

" My sisters, I might have said, but I was always 
glad to have done. 

" ' Oh, yes ! 'cried the King, laughing ; 'but I assure 
you she is of Baretti's opinion herself ; for 1 asked her 
if she thought it w^as her sister or her brother that be- 
trayed her to her father ? — and she says her sister, she 
thinks.' 

" Poor Esther ! — but I shall make her amends by what 
follows ; for the Queen again addressing me, said. 

" ' But to betray to a father is no crime — don't you 
think so V 

" I agreed ; and plainly thought she saw Esther, 
if Esther it was, had only done right. 

" The King then went en, and when he had finish- 
ed his narration the Queen took her seat. 

" She made Mrs. Delany sit next her, and Miss 

P brought her some tea, 

******* 

" Almost instantly upon the King's leaving me, a 
very gentle voice called out — 



82 MEMOIRS OF 

" ' Miss Burney !' 

" It was the Queen's. I walked a little nearer her, 
and a gracious inchnation of her head made me go 
quite up to her. 
" ^ You have been,' she said, ' at Mrs. Walsingham's V 

" * Yes, ma'am.' 

" * She has a pretty place, I believe V 

"'Yes, ma'am.' 

" ' Were you ever there before V 

" ' Yes, ma'am.' 

" ' Oh, shocking ! shocking ! thought I ; what will 
Mrs. Delany say to all these monosyllables 7 

" ' Has not she lately made some improvements V 

" * Yes, ma'am ; she has built a conservatory.' 

* * # # * * * 

" The Queen indeed is a most charming woman. 
She appears to me full of sense and graciousness, min- 
gled with delicacy of mind and liveliness of temper. 
She speaks English almost perfectly well, with great 
choice and copiousness of language, though now and 
then with foreign idiom, and frequently with a foreign 
accent. Her manners have an easy dignity, with a 
most engaging simplicity ; and she has all that fine 
high breeding which the mind, not the station, gives, 
of carefully avoiding to distress those who converse 
with her, or studiously removing the embarassment 
she cannot prevent. 

" The King, however he may have power, in the 
cabinet, to command himself, has in private, the ap- 
pearance of a character the most open and sincere. 
He speaks his opinions without reserve, and seems to 
trust them intuitively to his hearers, from a belief that 
they will make no ill use of them. His countenance 
is full of enquiry, to gain information without asking 
it, probably from believing that to be the nearest road 
to truth. All I saw of them both was the most per- 
fect good humour, good spirits, ease, and pleasantness. 



83 

" Their behaviour to each other speaks the most cor- 
dial confidence and happiness. The King seems to 
admire as much as he enjoys her coriversation, and to 
covet her participation in every thini^ he either sees 
or hears. The Queen appears to feel the most grate- 
ful regard for him, and to make it her chief study to 
raise his consequence with others, by always marking 
that she considers herself, though Queen to the nation, 
only, to him, the first and most obedient of subjects. 
Indeed, in their different ways, and allowing for the 
diflference of their characters, they left me equally 
charmed both with their behaviour to each other and 
to myself." 

Miss Burney's second interview with the King was 
somewhat more satisfactory to herself. It took place 
three days after the first. 

" In the evening, says she, " while Mrs. Delany," 
Miss P — and I were sitting and working together in 
the drawing-room, the door was opened, and the King 
entered. 

" We all started up ; Miss P ~ flew to her modest 

post by the door, and I to my more comfortable one 
opposite the fire, which caused me but a slight and 
gentle retreat, and Mrs. Delany he immediately com- 
manded to take her own place again. 

" He was full of joy for the Princess Elizabeth. 
He had been to the lower Lodge, and found her in a 
sweet sleep, and she was now, he said, in a course of 
James's Powders, from which he hoped her perfect re- 
storation. I fear, however, it is still but precarious. 

" Our party being so small, he made all that pass- 
ed general ; for though he principally addressed him- 
self to Mrs. Delany, he always looked round to see 
that we heard him, and frequently referred to us. 

" I should mention, though, the etiquette always ob- 
served upon his entrance, v/hich, first of ail, is to fly oif 
to distant quarters ; and next, Miss P goes out. 



84 MEMOIRS O? 

walking backwards, for more candles, which she brin^^s 
in, two at a time, and places upon the table and pia- 
no-forte. Next she goes out for tea, which she then 
carries to his Majesty, upon a large salver, containing 
sugar, -^ream, and bread and butter, and cake, while 
she hangs a napkin over her arm for his fingers. 

" When he has taken his tea, she returns to his sta- 
tion, where she waits till he has done, and then takes 
away his cup and fetches more. 

" This, it seems, is a ceremony performed, in other 
places, always by the mistress of the house ; but here, 
neither of their Majesties will permit Mrs. Delany to 
attempt it. 



CHAPTER VII. 

A vacancy in the Royal house-hold — The office of Keeper of the 
Robes is offered by the Queen to Miss Burney — Her deliberation, 
disinclination, but final acceptance — Arrival at Windsor— Recep- 
tion by the Queen — Fears and heart-aches — Account of Miss 
Burney's mode of life at Court — An attempt upon the life of the 
King— Grief and horror of the royal family — Noble conduct of 
King George. 

About six monies after the events related i .ne 
above chapter, a vacancy occurred in the royal house- 
hold, from the resignation of Madame Haggedorn, 
one of the Queen's German attendants who, together 
with Madame Schwellenberg, held the office of keep- 
er of the robes. The place was instantly sought af- 
ter by persons of the highest distinction, but Queen 
Charlotte had been so much pleased with Miss Bur- 
ney that the situation v^^as offered to her. 

Miss Burney could not but be gratified by the 
Queen's avowed preference, yet she was in no haste 
to accept the offer. She could not endure the thought 



Madame d'arblay. 85 

of a separation from her family, and she foresaw that 
her timidity was one great barrier to her discharging 
with grace the duties of a situation which would 
bring her continually in the presence of thf' Queen. 
Dr. Burney and Mrs. Delany earnestly en^icated her 
not to decline so honourable and advantageous an of- 
fer, and after much deliberation she yielded to their 
wishes and accepted the situation. 

Of her emotions on arriving at Windsor, and the 
reception of the Queen, she has given an account 
(which we extract) in her journal. 

DIARY RESUMED. 

" Queen's Lodge, Windsor, Monday, July 17th, 
1786. — With what hurry of mind and body did I rise 
this morning ! Every thing had already been arrang- 
ed for Mrs. Ord's carrying us to Windsor, and my 
father's carriage was merely to go as baggage-wagon 
for my clothes. But I wept not then. I left no one 
behind me to regret ; my dear father accompanied 
me, and all my dear sisters had already taken their 
flight, never more to return. Even poor little Sarah, 
whom I love very dearly, was at Chesington. 

" Between nine and ten o'cl">ck v;e set off. We 
cir^liViged carriage in Queen Ann street, and Mrs. Ord 
conveyed us thence to Windsor. With a struggling 
heartj I kept myself tolerably tranquil during the lit- 
tle journey. My dear father was quite happy, and 
Mrs. Ord felt the joy of a mother in relinquishing me 
to the protection of a Queen so universally reverenced. 
Had I been in better spirits, their ecstacy would have 
been unbounded ; but alas ! — what I was approach- 
ing was not in my mind ; what I was leaving had 
taken possession of it solely. 

" Miss P flew out to us as the carriage stop- 
ped — the youthful blush of pleasure heightening her 



86 MEMOIRS OF 

complexion, and every feature showing her kind hap- 
piness. Mrs. Delany, she said, was gone out with 
the Queen. I took leave of my good Mrs. Ord, whose 
eyes overflowed with maternal feelings — chiefly of 
contentment. Mrs. Delany came home in about an 
hour. A chastened .- atisfaction was hers ; she rejoiced 
in the prospect before me -, she was happy we should 
now be so much united, but she felt for my depriva- 
tions, she saw the hard conflict v/ithin me, and the 
tenderest pity checked her delight. 

" It was now debated whether I was immediately 
to go to the Lodge, or wait for orders. The accus- 
tomed method for those who have their Majesties' 
commands to come to them is, to present themselves 
to the people in waiting, and by them to be announc- 
ed. My heart, however, was already sinking, and 
my spirits every moment were growing more agitated, 
and my sweet Mrs. Delany determined to spare me 
the additional task of passing through such aw^e- 
striking formalities. She therefore employed my 
dear father — delighted with the employment — to 
write a note, in her name. 

" ' Mrs. Delany presents her most humble duty to 
the Queen ; she found Dr. Burney and his daughter 
at her house ; Miss Burney waits the honour of Her 
Majesty's commands.' 

" This, though unceremonious and unusual, she was 
sure the Queen would pardon. A verbal answer 
came that I was to go to the Lodge immediately. 

" 0, my dear Susan ! in what an agony of mind 
did I obey the summons ! I was still in my travelling 
dress, but could not stay to change it. My father 
accompanied me. Mrs. Delany, anxiously and full 
of mixed sensations, gave me her blessing. We 
walked ; the Queen's Lodge is not fifty yards from 
Mrs. Delany 's door. My dear father's own courage 
all failed him in this little step ; for as I was now on 



MADAME d'aKBLAY. 87 

the point of entering — probably for ever — into an 
entire new way of life, and of foregoing by it all my 
most favourite schemes, and every dear expectation 
my fancy had ever indulged of happiness adapted to 
its taste — as now all v/as to be given up, I could dis- 
guise my trepidation no longer — indeed I never had 
disguised, I had only forborne proclaiming it. But 
my father now, sweet soul ! felt it all, as I held by 
his arm, without power to say one word, but that if 
he did not hurry along I should drop by the way. I 
heard in his kind voice that he was now really alarm- 
ed ; he would have slackened his pace, or have made 
me stop to breathe : but I could not ; my breath seem- 
ed gone, and I could only hasten with all my might, 
lest my strength should go too. 

" A page was in waiting at the gate, who showed 
us into Mrs. Haggerdorn's room, which was empty. 
My dear father endeavoured here to compose my 
spirits ; I could have no other command over them 
than to forbear letting him know the afflicted state of 
all within, and to suffer him to keep to his own con- 
clusions, that my emotion was all from fear of the ap- 
proaching audience. Imleed was it not ! — I could 
hardly even think of it. All that I was resigning — 
there, and there only went every fear, and and all re- 
luctance. 

" The page came in a minute or two to summon 
me to the Queen. The Queen was in her dressing- 
room. Mrs. Schwellenberg was standing behind 
her : nobody else present. 

" She received me w^ith a most gracious bow of the 
h'^ad, and a smile that was all sweetness. She saw 
me much agitated, and attributed it, no doubt, to the 
awe of her presence. O, she little knew my mind 
had no room in it for feelings of that sort ! She talk- 
ed to me of my journey, my father, my sisters, and 
my brothers ; the weather, the roads, and Mrs. Delany 



88 MEMOIRS OF 

— any, every thing she could suggest, that could best 
tend to compose and to make me easy ; and when I 
had been with her about a quarter of an hour, she 
desired Mrs. Schwellenberg to show me my apart- 
ment, and, with another graceful bow, motioned my 
retiring. 

" Not only to the swest Queen, but to myself let 
me here do justice, in declaring that though I entered 
her presence with a heart filled with every thing but 
herself, I quitted it with sensations much softened. 
The condescension of her efforts to quiet me, and the 
elegance of her receiving me, thus, as a visiter, with- 
out naming to me a single direction, without even the 
niost distant hint of business, struck me to show so 
much delicacy, as well as gcaciousness, that I quitted 
her with a very deep sense of her goodness, and a 
strong conviction that she merited every exertion on 
my part to deserve it. 

" Mrs. Schwellenberg left me at the room door, 
where my dear father was still waiting for me, too 
anxious to depart till he again saw me." 

After having passed a week in her new situation, 
she gives the following account of her manner of 
spending the day. 

" Monday, July 24. — I rise at six o'clock, dress in 
a morning gown and cap, and wait my first sum- 
mons, which is at all times from seven to near eight, 
but commonly in the exact half hour between them. 

" The Queen never sends for me till her hair is dres- 
sed. This, in a morning, is always done by her ward- 
robe-woman, Mrs. Thielky, a German, but who speaks 
English perfectly well. 

" Mrs. Schwellenberg, since the first week, has 
never come down in the morning at all. The Queen's 
dress is finished by Mrs. Thielky and myself. No 
maid ever enters the room while the Queen is in it. 
Mrs. Thielky hands the things to me, and I put them 



MADAME p'aRBLAY. 89 

on. *Tis fortunate for me I have not the handing 
them ! I should never know which to take first, em- 
barrassed as I am, and should run a prodigious risk of 
giving the gown before the hoop, and the fan before 
the neckerchief. 

" By eight o'clock, or a little after, for she is ex- 
tremely expeditious, she is dressed. She then goes 
out to j in the King, and be joined by the Princesses, 
and they all proceed to the King's chapel in the Cas- 
tle, to prayers, attended by the governesses of the 
Princesses, and the King's equerry. Various others 
at times attend ; but only these indispensably. 

" I then return to my own room to breakfast. I 
make this meal the most pleasant part of the day ; I 
have a book for my companion, and I allow myself 
an hour for it. My present book is Gilpin's descrip- 
tion of the Lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland. 
Mrs. Dei any has lent it me. It is the most picturesque 
reading 1 ever met with : it shows me landscapes of 
every sort, with tints so bright and lively, I forget I 
am but reading, and fancy I see them before me, co- 
loured by the hand of Nature. 

" At nine oxlock I send off my breakfast things, and 
relinquish my book, to make a serious and steady ex- 
amination of every thing I have upon my hands in 
the way of business ; in which preparations for dress 
are always included, not for the present day alone, 
but for the court-days, which require a particular 
dress ; for the next arriving birthday of any of the 
Royal Family, every one of which requires new" ap- 
parel ; for Kew, v/here the dress is plainest ; and for 
going on here, where the dress is very pleasant to me, 
requiring no show nor finery, but merely to be neat, 
not inelegant, and moderately fashionable. 

" That over, I have my time at my own disposal 
till a quarter before twelve, except on Wednesdays 
and Saturdays, when I have it only to a quarter be- 



90 MEMOraS OF 

" My rummages and business sometimes occupy me 
uninterruptedly to those hours. When they do not, 
I give till ten to necessary letters '^f duty, ceremony, 
or long arrears ; and now, from ten to the times I 
have mentioned, I devote to walking. 

" These times mentioned call me to the irksome and 
quick-returning labours of the toilette. The hour 
advanced on the Wednesdays and Saturdays is for 
curling and craping the hair, which it now requires 
twice a week. 

" A quarter before one is the usual time for the 
Queen to begin dressing for the day. Mrs. Schwel- 
lenberg then constantly attends ; so do I ; Mrs. Thiel- 
ky, of course, at all times. We help her off with her 
gown, and on with her powdering things, and then 
the hair dresser is admitted. She generally reads the 
newspapers during that operation. 

" When she observes that I have run to her but 
half dressed, she constantly gives me leave to return 
and finish as soon as she is seated. If she is grave, 
and reads steadily on, she dismisses me, whether I am 
dressed or not j but at all times she never forgets to 
send me away while she is powdering, with a consid- 
eration not to spoil my clothes, that one would not 
expect belonged to her high station. Neither does 
.she ever detain me without making a point of read- 
ing here and there some little paragraph aloud. 

" When I return, I finish, if any thing is undone, 
my dress, and then take Baretti's Dialogues, my dear- 
est Fredy's Tablet of Memory, or some such disjoin- 
ted matter, for the few minutes that elapse ere I am 
again summoned. 

" I find her then always removed to her state dres- 
sing room, if any room in this private mansion can 
have the epithet of state. There, in a very short 
time, her dress is finished. She then says she won't de- 
taia mcj and I see and hear no more of her till bed-time. 



91 

'' It is commonly three o'clock when I am thus set 
at large. And I have then two hours quite at my 
own disposal : but, in the natui al course of things, 
not a moment after ! These dear and quiet two 
hours, my only quite sure and undisturbed time in the 
whole day, after breakfast is over, I shall hencefor- 
ward devote to thus talking w^ith my beloved Susan, 
my Fredy, my other sister, my dear father, or Miss 
Cambridge ; w^ith my brothers, cousins, Mrs. Ord, and 
other friends, in such terms as these two hours will 
occasionally allow me. Henceforward, I say ; for 
hitherto dejection of spirits, w'ith uncertainty how 
longm time might last, have made me waste moment 
after moment as sadly as un profitably. 

" At five we have dinner. Mrs. Schwellenberg and 
I meet in the eating room. We are commonly tete- 
a-tete : when there is any body added, it is from her 
invitation only. Whatever right my place might af- 
ford mc of also inviting my friends to the table I have 
now totally lost, by want of courage and spirits to 
claim it originally. 

" When we have dined, we go up stairs to her 
apartment, which is directly over mine. Here we 
have cofiee till the terracing is over : this is at about 
eight o'clock. Our tete-a-tete then finishes, and we 
come down again to the eating room. ThCxC the 
equerry, whoever he is, comes to tea constantly, and 
with him any gentleman that the King or Queen may 
have invited for the evening ; and when tea is over^ 
he conducts them, and goes himself, to the concert 
room. 

" This is commonly about nine o'clock. 

" From that time, if Mrs. Schwellenberg is alone, 
I never quit her for a minute, till I come to my little 
supper at near eleven. 

" Between eleven and twelve my last summons 
usually takes place, earlier and later occasionally. 



92 MEMOIRS OF 

Twenty minutes is the customary time then spent with 
the Queen : half an hour, I beheve, is seldom ex- 
ceeded. 

'' I then come back, and after doing whatever I can 
to forward my dress for the next morning, I go to bed 
— and to sleep, too, believe me : the early rising, and 
a long day's attention to new affairs and occupations, 
cause a fatigue so bodily, that nothing mental stands 
against it, and to sleep I fall the moment I have put 
out my candle and laid down my head. 

" Such is the day to your F. B. in her new situa- 
tion at Windsor ; such, I mean, is its usual destina- 
tion, and its intended course. I make it take now 
and then another channel, but never stray far enough 
not to return to the original stream after a little me- 
andering about and about it. 

An alarmmg accident occurred to the King, of which 
Miss Burney gives the annexed thrilling account. 

" I went into my own room for my cloak, and, as 
usual, found Madame La Fite v/aiting for me. She 
was all emotion, — she seized my' hand, — ' Have you 
heard! — inon Bieuf le hon Rolf O Miss 
Burney ! ivhat an horreur / ' 

" I was very much startled, but soon ceased to won- 
der at her perturbation ; — she had been in the room 
with the Princess Elizabeth, and there heard, from 
Miss Goldsworthy, that an attempt had just been 
made upon the life of the King ! 

" I was almost petrified with horror at the intelli- 
gence. If this King is not safe, — good, pious, benefi- 
cent as he is, — if his life is in danger, from his own 
subjects, what is to guard the Throne ? and which 
way is a monarch to be secure ? 

" Miss Goldsworthy had taken every possible pre- 
caution so to tell the matter to the Princess Ehzabeth 
as least to alarm her, lest it might occasion a return 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 93 

of her spasms j but, fortunately, she cried so exceed- 
ingly that it was hoped the vent of her tears would 
save her from those terrible convulsions. 

** Madame La Fite had heard of the attempt only, 
not the particulars ; but I was afterwards informed of 
them in the most interesting manner, — namely, how 
they were related to the Queen. 

"" The Queen had two elder Princesses, the Duchess 
of Ancaster and Lady Caroline Bertie, with her when 
the King came in. He hastened up to her, witli a 
countenance of striking vivacity, and said, ' Here am 
I ! safe and well, — as you see ! — but I have very nar- 
rowly escaped being stabbed ! ' 

" His own conscious safety, and the pleasure he felt 
in thus personally showing it to the Queen, made 1dm 
not aware of the effect of so abrupt a communication. 
The Queen was seized with a consternation that at 
first almost stupified her, and, after a most painful 
silence, the first words she could articulate were, in 
looking round at the Duchess and Lady Charlotte, 
who had both burst into tears — * 1 envy you ! — I 
can^t cry ! ' 

" The two Princesses were for a little while in the 
same state ; but the tears of the Duchess proved infec- 
tious, and they then wept even with violence. 

" The King, with the gayest good-humour, did his 
utmost to comfort them ; and then gave a relatior^of 
the affair, with a calmness and unconcern that, had 
anyone but himself been his hero, would have been 
regarded as totally unfeeling. 

" You may have heard it wrong ; I will concisely 
tell it right. His carriage had just stopped at the 
garden-door at St. James's, and he had just alighted 
from it, when a decently-dressed woman, who had 
been waiting for him some time, approached him with 
a petition. It was rolled up, and had the usual sub- 
scription — ^ For the King's most Excellent Majesty.' 



94 MEMOIRS OF 

She presented it with her right hand ; and, at the 
same moment that the King bent forward to take it, 
she drew from it, with her left hand, a knife, with 
which she aimed straight at his heart ! 

" The fortunate awkwardness of taking the instru- 
ment with the left hand, made her design perceived 
before it eoidd be executed ; — the King started back, 
scarce believing the testimony of his own eyes ; and 
the woman made a second thrust, which just touched 
his waistcoat before he had time to prevent her ; — and 
at that moment one of the attendants, seeing her hor- 
rible intent, wrenched the knife from her hand. 

" ' Has she cut my waistcoat V cried he, in telling 
it, — ' Look ! for I have had no time to examine.' 

" Thank heaven, however, the poor wretch had not 
gone quite so far. 

" ' Though nothing,' added the King, in giving his 
relation, ' could have been sooner done, for there was 
nothing for her to go through but a thin linen, and fat.' 

" While the guards and his own people now sur- 
rounded the Kmg, the assassin was seized by the 
populace, who tearing her away, no doubt to fall the 
instant sacrifice of her murtherous purpose, when the 
King, the only calm and moderate person then present, 
called aloud to the mob, ' The poor creature is mad ! 
Do not hurt her ! She has not hurt me ! ' 

" He then came forward, and showed himself to all 
the people, declaring he was perfectly safe and un- 
hurt ; and then gave positive orders that the woman 
should be taken care of, and went into the palace, and 
had his levee. 

" There is something in the whole of his behaviour 
upon this occasion, that strikes me as proof indisputa- 
ble of a true and noble courage : for in a moment so 
extraordinary — an attack, in this country, unheal d of 
before — to settle so instantly that it was the effect of 
insanity — to feel no apprehension of private plot or 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 95 

latent conspiracy — to stay out, fearlessly, among his 
people, and so benevolently to see himself to the safety 
of one who had raised her arm against his life, — these 
little traits, all impulsive, and therefore to be trusted, 
have given me an impression of respect and reverence 
that I can never lorget, and never think of but with 
fresh admiration. 

" If that love of prerogative, so falsely assigned, 
were true, what an opportunity was here offered to 
exert it ! Had he instantly taken refuge in his palace, 
ordered out all his guards, stopped every avenue to 
St. James's, and issued his commands that every indi- 
vidual present at this scene should be secured and ex- 
amined, — who would have dared to murmur, or even 
blame such measures ? 

" The insanity of the w^oman has now fully been 
proved : but that noble confidence which gave that 
instant excuse for her was then all his own. 

" Nor did he rest here ; notwithstanding the excess 
of terror for his safety, and doubt of further mischief, 
with which all his family and all his household were 
seized, he still maintained the most cheerful compo- 
sure, and insisted upon walking on the terrace, with no 
other attendant than his single equerry. 

" The poor Queen went with him, pale and silent, 
— the Princesses followed, scarce yet commanding 
their tears. In the evening, just as usual, the King 
had his concert : but it was an evening of grief and 
horror to his family ; nothing was listened to, scarce 
a word was spoken ; the Princesses wept continually ; 
the Queen, still more deeply struck, could only, from 
time, hold out her hand to the King, and say, ' I have 
you yet ! ' 

" The affection for the King, felt by all his house- 
hold has been at once pleasant and affecting to me to 
observe : there has not been a dry eye in either of the 
Lodges on the recital of his danger, and not a face 



96 MEMOIRS OF 

but his own that has not worn marks of care ever 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Miss Barney's unfortunate timidity — Reading to the Queen — Ma- 
dame de Geniis— Mrs. Delany's advic?- — The Queen's opinion on the 
subject of an intimacy with Madame de Genhs — The '' great coat" 
—Miss Burncy's Stanzas — Singular mode of presenting them— The 
Queen's acknowledgments — Condescension mingled with humility. 

Miss Burney's uncontrollable timidity often made 
her appear to great disadvantage, if we may judge 
from her own account of the situations in which she 
was sometimes placed, and of which the following 
anecdote will give some idea. 

" Wednesday, August 17th. — From the time that 
the Queen condescended to desire to place me in im- 
mediate attendance upon her own person, I had al- 
ways secretly concluded she meant me for her Eng- 
lish reader ; since the real duties of my office would 
have had a far greater promise of being fulfilled by 
thousands of others than by myself This idea had 
made the prospect of reading to her extremely awful 
to me : an exhibition, at any rate, is painful to me, 
but one in which 1 considered Her Majesty as a judge, 
interested for herself in the sentence she should pro- 
nounce, and gratified or disappointed according to its 
tenor — this was an exhibition formidable indeed, and 
must have been considered as such by any body in 
similar circumstances. 

" Not a book, not a pamphlet, not a newspaper, had 
I ever seen near the Queen, for the first week, without 
feeling a panic ; I always expected to be called upon. 
She frequently bid me give her the papers ; I felt that 



97 

they would be the worst reading I could have, because 
full of danger, in matter as well as manner : however, 
she always read them herself. 

" To-day, after she was dressed, Mrs. Schwellenberg 
went to her own room ; and the Queen, instead of 
leaving me to go to mine, desired me to follow her to 
her sitting dressing-room. She then employed me in 
helping to arrange her work, which is chair-covers 
done in riband ; and then told me to fetch her a vol- 
ume of the Spectator. 1 obeyed with perfect tran- 
quillity. She let me stand by her a little while with- 
out speaking, and then, suddenly, but very gently, 
said ' Will you read a paper while I work V 

" I was quite ' consternated !' I had not then the 
smallest expectation of such a request. I said nothing, 
and held the book unopened. 

" She took it from me, and pointed out the place 
where I should begin. She is reading them regularly 
through lor the hrst time. I had no choice : 1 vv^as 
forced to obey ; but my voice was less obedient than 
my will, and it became so husky, and so unmanagea- 
ble, that nothing more unpleasant could be heard. 
The paper was a curious one enough — all concerning 
a court I'avourite. I could hardly rejoice when my task 
was over, from my consciousness how ill it was per- 
formed. The Queen talked of the paper, but forebore 
saying anything of any sort about the reader. I am 
sorry, however, to have done so ill.'^ 

At this period, Madame de Genlis made several 
attempts, through Madame La Fite, to renew her ac- 
quaintance with Miss Burney. Mrs. Delany thought 
it advisable for Miss Burney to consult the Queen 
on the matter, and with much diffidence, hesitation, 
and continual pauses. Miss Burney at length requested 
her Majesty's opinion on the subject of an intimacy 
with the renowned French authoress. Queen Char- 
lotte listened with great attention, and then with 



98 MEMOIRS OF 

much frankness a\o'.ved that, although she had her- 
self been tormented into granting Madame de Genlis 
a private audience, she was now displeased with her- 
self for having done so, and strongly advised Miss 
Burney to avoid entering into a correspondence with 

Madame G , or in any manner renewing the 

acquaintance. 

Miss Burney seldom wrote in verse, but she appears 
to have possessed a facilit}^ in versifying, which was 
w^orthy of cultivation. 

The Queen was one day remarking on the comfort 
of a morning-gown, or " great-coat," as it was call- 
ed in that day, and laughingly requested Miss Burney 
to bid her muse sing the praises of this invaluable 
article of dress. Miss Burney, on returning to her 
room, immediately complied with the Queen's wishes, 
and WTote a few stanzas, which she had not the 
courage to present, although she kept them in her 
pocket. Her mode of presenting them, when she did 
at last summon resolution, was particularly charac- 
teristic. 

*' In Lhe morning," says she, " I had the honour of 
a conversation with the Queen, the most delightful 
on her part, I had ever yet been indulged with. It 
was all upon dress, and she said so nearly what 1 had 
just imputed to her in my little stanzas, that I could 
scarce refrain producing them ; yet could not muster 
courage. She told me with the sweetest grace ima- 
ginable, how well she had liked at first her jewels 
and ornaments as Queen, — ' But how soon,' cried 
she, ' was that over ! Believe me, Miss Burney, it 
is a pleasure of a week, — a fortnight, at most, — and 
to return no more ! I thought, at first, I should al- 
ways choose to wear them j but the fatigue and 
trouble of putting them on, and the care they requi- 
red, and the fear of losing them, — believe me, ma'am, 
in a fortnight's time I longed again for my own ear- 
lier dress, and v^^ished never to see them more !' 



99 



Just as she was quitting her dressing-room, I got 
behind her and suddenly blurted out — 

" ' Your Majesty's goodness to me, ma'am, makes 
me venture to own that there is a command which I 
received some time ago,- and which I have made 
some attempt to execute.' 

" She turned round with great quickness, — ' The 
great coat V she cried, ' is it that V 

" I was glad to be so soon urderstood, and took it 
from my pocket book — but holding it a little back, 
as she otfered to take it. 

" ' For your Majesty alone !' I cried ; ' I must entreat 
that it may meet no other eyes, and I hope it will 
not be looked at when any one else is even in sight !' 

" She gave me a ready promise, and took it with 
alacrity, and walked off with a vivacity that assured 
me she would not be very long before she examined 
it ; though, when I added another little request, al- 
most a condition that it might not be read till I was 
far away, she put it into her pocket unopened, and, 
wishing me a pleasant ride, and that I might find my 
father well, she proceed towards the breakfast par- 
lour." 

The following is a copy of the verses, and an ac- 
count of the manner in which the Queen acknow- 
ledged them : — 

THE GREAT COAT. 

Thrice honour'd Robe ! couldst thou espy 
The form that deigns to show thy worth ; 

Hear the mild voice, view the arch eye. 
That call thy panegyric forth ; 

"Wouldst thou not swell with vain delight ? 

With proud expansion sail along ? 
And deem thyself more grand and brigh 

Than aught that lives in ancient song ? 



100 MEMOIRS OF 

Than Venus' cestus, Dian's crest, 

Minerva's helmet, fierce and bold, 
Or all of emblem gay that dress'd 

Capricious goddesses of old ? 

Thee higher honours yet await : — 

Haste, then, thy triumphs quick prepare, 

Thy trophies spread in haughty state, 
Sweep o'er the earth, and scoff the air 

Ah no ! — retract ! — retreat ! — oh stay ! 

Learn, wiser, whence so well thou'st sped; 
She whose behest produced this lay 

By no false colours is misled. 

Suffice it for the buskin'd race 

Plaudits by pomp and show to win ; 
Those seek simplicity and grace 

Whose dignity is from within. 

The cares or joys she soars above 

That to the toilette's duties cleave ; 
Far other cares her bosom move, 

Far other joys those cares relieve. 

The garb of state she inly scorn'd. 

Glad from its trappings to be freed, 
She saw the humble, unadorn'd, 

Quick of attire,— a child of speed. 

Still, then, thrice honour 'd Robe ! retain 

Thy modest guise, thy decent ease ; 
Nor let thy favour prove thy bane 

By turning from its fostering breeze. 

She views thee with a mental eye. 

And from thee draws this moral end : — 

Since hours are register'd on high. 
The friend of Time is Virtue's friend. 

" You may easily believe I did not approach the 
Queen that night with much of a sleepy composure. 
She inquired very sweetly after my little excursion, 
and was quite disappointed for me when she heard 
I had not seen my father ; and all the Princesses, 
afterwards, as I chanced to be in their way, expres-- 
sed their concern for me. When Mrs. Thielky left 



MADAME d'aRBL AY. 101 

the room, the Queen, with a smile very expressive, 
half arch, half ashamed, thanked me lor the little 
poem, adding, ' indeed, it is very pretty — only — don't 

deserve it.' " 



CHAPTER IX. 

Application from the publishers of " Cecilia " —Letter from Mrs. 
Lemman to the authoress of ''CeciJia" — A threatened attempt 
at Suicide — Dr. Burney at Court — Ills singular nou-observanre of 
Court etiquette — The King's good-humoar — Visit to Dr. Herschel 
— Comment of the Princess Amelia upon Dr. Burney's looks — The 
New Year — West's picture of the Resurrection — The King''i offer- 
ing — The Bishop of Worcester — Visit from Mr. West — His entlm- 
siasm — Dr. Burney's poem on the Queen's birthday — His daugh- 
ter's mode of presenting it — The Ball — An unexpected dilemma — 
The young Clergyman and the chairman. 

In December, 1786, Miss Burney was very much 
annoyed by an application from the publishers of 
" Cecilia." "I had a letter," she writes, " from Mr. 
Foss, the attorney, written in the name of Messrs. Ca- 
dell & Payne, to inform me that ' CeciUa ' was then 
printing in Ireland or Scotland, I forget v;hich, illegal- 
ly ; and that they desired me to sign a letter, which 
Mr. Foss enclosed, in which I threatened, jointly with 
these booksellers, to prosecute to the utmost extent of 
the law, any person or persons who should dare thus 
pirate my work. 

*' Equally astonished and dissatisfied at such a de- 
mand, I wrote for answer that I had wholly done with 
the book — that I would enter into no prosecution for 
any consideration — and that I wished them well 
through a business that was entirely their own. 

'^ To this refusal succeeded fresh applications. I 

was made so uneasy that I confided in Mr. Smelt, and 

begged his counsel. He happened to be present 

when one of the letters came to me. He advised me 

I* 



102 MEMOIRS OF 

by no means to give way to a request so big with con- 
sequences which I could not foresee, and, since the 
property and the profits were now ahke made over to 
them, to persevere in leaving to their own sole con- 
duct so disagreeable a contest. 

*' I (lid very thankfully follow this advice ; but they 
next had recourse to my father, and offered to indem- 
nify me of all costs, if I would only give them my 
name and sanction. 

" My name and sanction were just what I most 
wished to keep to myself; but so importunate they 
continued, that my father asked the opinion of Mr. 
Batt. He said he conceived that they had actually a 
claim to my concurrence in prosecuting any false 
editors. A softer paper was drawn up than the first, 
and, little as I liked it, I was obliged to sign myself, 
with the utmost reluctance, their assistant in the pro- 
ceedings. 

'•' I know not when I have been more astonished 
than in finding myself in a situation so unlike any 
in which I had ever meant to place myself I have 
heard nothing of the matter since : I flatter myself, 
therefore, that this signature, fierce as it was constrain- 
ed, has frightened those who have received, as much 
as it did her who writ it. Otherwise, to be involved 
in a prosecution, — a lawsuit! — I know few things 
indeed that could more heartily have disturbed me. 

" A most troublesome letter, also, arrived to me 
from Ireland. A Mrs. Lemman wrote me her whole 
history, which was very lamentable, if true, but which 
concluded with requesting me to pay her debts, 
amounting to about thirty or forty pounds, and to put 
her and her family into some creditable way of busi- 
ness : otherwise, as I was now her sole resource, she 
mu&t inevitably put an end to her existence. 

*' I wrote an immediate answer, to assure her I had 
no power to comply with her demand, and frankly to 



MaBAME D^ARBLAif. 103 

own that if my power were greater, my claims nearer 
home must first be satisfied : I was sorry for a reli- 
ance so misplaced, but as we were wholly strangers 
to each other, I could never suppose myself a resource 
on which she had placed much dependence. And I 
concluded with a severe — -I thought it right— repre- 
hension of her threat, assuring her that I held such an 
action in too much horror to suffer it to move my 
compassion at the expense of my prudence, and, in* 
deed, ability ; and I strongly advised her to take an 
opposite method in the next plan she formed, than 
that of using a menace which must rob her of pity by 
provoking displeasure. To this I added such counsel 
as her letter enabled me to draw out for her, and sent 
it off. 

*' Soon after, came another letter from the same 
person. She told me she had just read ' Cecilia,' and 
was satisfied whoever could write it must save and 
deliver her ; and she added that she was then compil- 
ing her own memoirs, and would mention it to the 
world, in the highest terras, all I would do for her. 

" Simple artifice ! to suppose flattery so grossly pro- 
mised could so dearly be bought ! — vexed was I, how- 
ever, to have written at all to a person who then was 
in the act of committing to the press probably what- 
ever she could gather. I made no further answer, — I 
only wish, now, I had a copy of what she has already. 
Doubtless her threat originated in a scheme like that 
she supposes in Mr. Harrel. She thought where 
Cecilia had been frightened, I also must give way. 
She forgot that she was no wife of my earliest friend, 
no guardian to myself, that I saw not the instrument 
of death in her hand, and that I possessed not three 
thousand pounds a year, from which to borrow her 
release." 

The following extracts from Miss Burney's Diary 
contain an account of many interesting events of her 
court life. 



104 MEMOIRS OF 

" Friday, December 29th. — This day, by long ar- 
rangement, I expected to receive a visit from my fa- 
ther. He had engaged himself to me for three days, 
and was to reside at Mrs. Delany's. 

" I acquainted the Queen with ray hopes, which she 
heard with the most pleased and pleasing expression 
of approbation. She told them to the King, who in- 
quired, with an air of real satisfaction in my happi- 
ness, when he would come ? 

" Afterwards, while the Queen was at her toilette, 
and asking me kind questions of my father and all the 
family, the King entered. He inquired if my father 
was arrived. 1 was delighted to see, by their natu- 
ral behaviour, how right, as well as sweet, was this 
parental visit. 

" Before this, however, she had desired that my fa- 
ther should dine with me ; and then asked me to in- 
vite, also, Mile. Montmoulhn, because she was wanted 
early in the afternoon; and she condescended to add, 
' I would not else have her with you to-day ; but she 
will not stay long, and I hope it won't be troublesome 
to you.' 

" At three o'clock our dearest Padre arrived^-well, 
gay, and sweet — and we spent near two hours w^hol- 
ly alone, and truly happy. 

" A^ dinner the party was enlarged by the presence 
of Mrs. Delany and Mr. Sm.elt ; to these were added 

the lovely and lively Miss P , the gentle Mile. 

Montmoullin, and the friendly Miss Planta. 

" My dear father was the principal c'^ject to all, 
and he seemed to enjoy himself, and to be enjoyed 
throughout. 

" We returned to my own apartment to our coffee, 
and the two governess ladies retired; and then came 
the King for Mrs. Delany ; and not for that solely, 
though ostensibly, for his behaviour to my father pro- 
ved his desire to see and converse with him. 



105 

*' He began immediately upon musical matters, and 
entered into a discourse upon them with the most an- 
imated wish of both hearing and communicating his 
sentiments ; and my dear father was perfectly ready 
to meet his advances. No one, at all used to the 
court etiquettes, could have seen him without smiling ; 
he was sx3 totally unacquainted with the forms usual- 
ly observed in the royal presence, and so regardless 
or thoughtless of acquiring them, that he moved, spoke, 
acted, and debated, precisely with the same ease and 
freedom that he would have used to any other gentle- 
man whom he had accidently met. 

" A certain flutter of spirits, which always accom- 
panies these interviews, even with those who are the 
least awed by them, put my dear father oiT the guard 
which is the customary assistant upon these occasions, 
of watching what is done by those already initiated 
in those royal ceremonies : highly gratified by the 
openness and good humour of the King, he was all 
energy and spirit, and pursued every topic that was 
started, till he had satisfied himself upon it, and star- 
ted every topic that occurred to him, whether the 
King was ready for another or not. 

" While the rest, retreating towards the wainscot, 
formed a distant and respectful circle, in which the 
King alone moves, this dear father came forward into 
it himself, and wholly bent upon pursuing whatever 
theme was begun, followed the King when he mov- 
ed away, and came forward to meet his steps when 
he moved back ; and while the rest waited his imme- 
diate address ere they ventured to speak a word, he 
began and finished, sustained or dropped, renewed or 
declined, every theme that he pleased, without con- 
sulting any thing but his feelings and understanding. 

" This vivacity and this nature evidently pleased 
the King, whose good sense instantly distinguishes 
what is unconscious from what is disrespectful j and 



106 • MEMOmS OF 

his stay in the room, which I believe was an hour, and 
the perfect good-humour with which he received as 
well as returned the sprightly and informal sallies of 
my father, were proofs the most convincing of his ap- 
probation. 

" December 30th. — This morning my dear father 
carried me to Dr. Herschel. That great and extraor- 
dinary man received us with almost open arms. He is 
very fond of my father, who is one of the Council of 
the Royal Society this year, as well as himself, and 
he has much invited me when we have met at the 
Lodge or at Mr. De Luc's. 

" At this time of day there was nothing to see but 
his instruments : those, however, are curiosities suffi- 
cient. His immense new telescope, the largest ever 
constructed, will still, I fear, require a year or two 
more for finishing, but I hope it will then' reward his 
labour and ingenuity by the new views of the heaven- 
ly bodies, and their motions, which he flatters himself 
will be procured by it. Already, with that he has 
now in use, he has discovered fifteen hundred univer- 
ses ! How many more he can find, who can conjec- 
ture ? The moon, too, w^hich seems his favourite ob- 
ject, has already afforded him two volcanoes; and his 
own planet, the Georgium Sidus, has now shown two 
satellites. From such a man, what may not astrono- 
my expect, when an instrument superior in magni- 
tude to any ever yet made, and constructed wholly 
by himself or under his own eye, is the vehicle of his 
observation ? 

" I wished very much to have seen his sister, whose 
knowledge in his own science, is so extraordinary, and 
■who herself was the first discoverer of the last comet ; 
but she had been up all night, and was then in bed. 

" Mr. Smelt joined us, by appointment ; and the 
Bishop of Worcester came afterwards, with Dr. Dou- 
glas, to whom I was then introduced. He is the fa- 



107 

mous editor, who has published, and revised, and cor- 
rected so many works : among them, the last voyage 
round the world. 

" By the invitation of Mr. Herschel, I now took a 
walk which will sound to you rather strange: it 
•v\"as through his telescope ! and it held me quite up- 
right, and without the least inconvenience ; so would 
it have done had I been dressed in feathers and a 
bell hoop — such is its circumferr ii e. Mr. Smelt led 
the way, walking also upright ; -md my father fol- 
lowed. After we were gone, the Bishop and Dr. 
Douglas were tempted, for its oddity, to make the 
same promenade. 

" Again my dear father, by the Queen's command, 
dined with me ; and Mr. Smelt and Miss Planta met 
him. Mrs. Delany ^ould not come till the afternoon. 

" After coffee, the sweet Princess Amelia was 
brought by the King himself, to fetch Mrs. Delany. 
The King showed her to my father, who could not but 
most unatfectedly admire so lovely a child. 

" Then sportively pointing to my father, the King 
whispered to her, ' Do you know who that is, Emily V 

" ' No.' 

" ' Is it Miss Burney's papa V 

" ' No !' 

" ' Why not ? is he too young," V 

" ' Yes.' 

" This mightily entertained the King, who repeated 
it to my father, as a great compliment to his youthful 
looks. 

" The little Princess then, taking Miss Delany by 
the hand, pulled her on, to go to her mamma, saying, 
' Come, Mrs. Delany, come to mamma ; take care Mrs. 
Delany ! — Papa, come and take care of Mrs. Delany 
down the steps ! — Don't you come alone, Mrs. De- 
lany !' 

" The King, though I believe he had meant to stay 



108 MEMOIRS OF 

and converse again with my father, was too much of 
the father himself to resist this bewitching little 
claimant ; and away they all went ; though he turned 
round first, and in answer to her ' Take care of Mrs. 
elany !' said, ' And who shall we leave to take care 
of Miss Burney V 

" * Why — Thatr cried she^ comically, and pointing 
to my father. 

" When Mrs. Del any came back to take my father 
to her hospitable house, she whispered to me that she 
had been requesting the Queen to allow her a copy of 
the verses on a Great Coat ; and the Queen had re- 
ferred her to me ; saying at the same time, — 

" ' I would give you them, and I would show and 
produce them often, and to many, but I cannot, be- 
cause of what belongs to myself in them.' 

" Very true, my conscious Queen ! thought con- 
scious F. B., for on that very reliance did 1 compose 
and present them. 

" Monday, January 1st. — I opened the new year 
with what composure I could acquire. I considered 
it the first year of my being settled in a permanent 
situation, and made anew the best resolutions I was 
equal to forming, that I would do what 1 could to 
curb all spirit of repining, and to content myself calm- 
ly — unresistingly, at least — with my destiny. 

*^' For this end I kept myself more than ever em- 
ployed, not suffering a moment to be wasted by medi- 
tation, save what, perforce, was borrowed from my 
sleep. This measure, indeed, I had pursued from my 
first settlement, and without it I had never, I am sure, 
been able to support myself. Even with it, for what 
a length of time must I have appeared to the Queen 
(all ignorant of the state of my mind) cold, shy, and 
inaccesible ! 

" Mr. Smelt and Mr. De Luc called only to make 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 109 

their congratulations on the new ; and then Miss P 

went with me to St. George's Chapei, which was this 
morning opened, with West's picture of the Resurrec- 
tion, on Jarvis's painted glass. I have already said 
my say upon it, and can only arid, that this solemn old 
chapel is extremely beautified (' a vile phrase !') by 
this superb window. 

" The King was to make an offering, as Sovereign of 
the Garter. He was seated in the Dean of Windsor's 
stallj and the Queen sat by his side. The Princesses 
were in the opposite seats, and all of them at the end 
of the church. 

" When the service was over, the offering ceremony 
began. The Dean and the Senior Canon went first 
to the communion table ; the Dean then read aloud, 
* Let your light so shine before men,' &c. The organ 
began a siov; and solemn movement, and the Kmg 
came down from his stall, and proceeded, with a grave 
and majestic walk, towards the communion table. 
When he had proceeded about the third of the way, 
he stopped and bowed low to the altar: then he moved 
on, and again, at an equal distance, stopped for the 
same formality, which was a third and last time re- 
peated as he reached the steps of the altar. Then he 
made the offering, which, according to the order of the 
original institution, was ten pounds in gold and silver, 
and delivered in a parse : he then knelt down, and 
made a silent prayer, after which, in the same mea- 
sured steps, he returned to hh stall, when the whole 
ceremony concluded by anotiier slov>^ movement of 
the organ. 

" The air of piety, and the unaffected grace and 
dignity, with which the King performed this rite, sur- 
prised and moved me ; Mr Smelt., the most affection- 
ate of his many loyal subjects, e^ en shed tears from 
emotion, in looking at him in this serious office. The 
King, I am told, always acquits himself with true ma- 

K 



110 MEMOIRS OF 

jesty, where he is necessarily to appear in state as a 
monarch. 

" Tuesday, January 2d. The Bishop of Worces- 
ter made me a visit this morning whilst I was at 
breakfast, but damped the pleasure I received from 
his company, by telling me be came to take leave, as 
he returned to town at noon. There is no chance of 
his again visiting Windsor till this time twelvemonth, 
and I felt very sorry to lose sight of him for such a 
length of time. Piety and goodness are so marked 
on his countenance, which is truly a fine one, that he 
has been named, and very justly, ' the Beauty of Ho- 
liness.' Indeed, in face, manner, demeanour, and con- 
versation, he seems precisely what a bishop should be, 
and what would make a looker on, were he not a 
bishop, and a see vacant, call out. Take Mr. Hurd ! 
that is the man ! 

" He had not long left me when another visitor 
came to take leave also, — Mr. West. He has done 
for the present with Windsor, but returns to his great 
work in the summer. We talked over, of course, his 
window : and he spoke of it in the highest terms of 
praise and admiration. Another man would be totally 
ridiculous who held such language about his own per- 
formances ; but there is in Mr. West, a something of 
simplicity in manner, that makes his self-commenda- 
tion seem the result rather of an unaffected mind than 
of a vain or proud one. It may sometimes excite a 

smile, but can never, I think, offend or disgust. 

* * * * * * * 

** I go back to the 16th, when I went to town, ac- 
companied only by Mr. De Laic. I saw my dear fa- 
ther the next morning, who gave me a poem on the 
Queen's birthday, to present. It was very pretty ; 
but I felt very awkward in offering it to her, as it 
was from so near a relation, and without any particu- 
lar reason or motive. Mr. Smelt came and stayed 



Ill 

'With me almost all the morning, and soothed and 
solaced me by his charming converse. The rest of 
the day was devoted to milliners, mantua-makers, 
and such artificers, and you may easily conjecture how 
great must be my fatigue. Nevertheless, when in the 
midst of these wasteful toils, the Princess Augusta en- 
tered my room, and asked me, from the Queen, if I 
should wish to see the ball the next day. I preferred 
running the risk of that new fatigue, to declining an 
honour so offered : especially as the Princess Augusta 
was herself to open the ball. 

" A chance question this night from the Queen^ 
whom I now again attended as usual, fortunately re- 
lieved me from my embarrassment about the poem. 
She inquired of me if my father was still writing. 
' A little,' I answered, and the next morning, 

" Thursday, January 18th, when the birthday was 
kept, I found her all sweetness and serenity ; mumbled 
out my own little compliment, which she received as 
graciously as if she had understood and heard it; and 
then, when she was dressed, I followed her through 
the great rooms, to get rid of the wardrobe woman, 
and there taking the poem from my pocket, I said, 
'I told your Majesty yesterday that my father had 
written a little ! — and here — the little is !' 

*' She took it from me with a smile and courtsey, 
and I ran off. She never has named it since ; but 
she has spoken of my father with much sweetness and 
complacency. The modest dignity of the Queen, 
upon all subjects of panegyric, is truly royal and 
noble. 

I had now, a second time, the ceremony of being 
entirely new dressed. I then went to St. James's, 
where the Queen gave a very gracious approbation 
of my gewgaws, and called upon the King to bestow 
the same ; which his constant good-humour makes a 
matter of great ease to him. 



112 MEMOIRS OF 

" The Queen's dress, being for her own birthday, 
was extremely simple, the style of dress considered. 
The King was quite superb, and the Princesses Au- 
gusta and Elizabeth were ornamented with much 
brilliancy. 

" Not only the Princess Royal was missed at this 
exhibition, but also the Prince of Wales. He wrote, 
however, his congratulations to the Queen, though 
the coldness then subsisting between him and his 
Majesty occasioned his absence from court. I fear it 
was severely felt by his Royal mother, though she ap- 
peared composed and content. 

" The two Princesses spoke' very kind words, also 
about my frippery on this festival ; and Princess Au- 
gusta laid her positive commands upon me that I 
should change my gown before I went to the Lord 
Chamberlain's box, where only my head could be seen. 
The counsel proved as useful as the consideration 
was amiable. 

" When the Qu'^'en was attired, the Duchess of An- 
caster was admitf ;;1 -o the dressing-room, where she 
stayed, in conversation with their Majesties and the 
Princesses, till it was time to summon the bedcham- 
ber women. During this, 1 had the office of holding 
the Queen's train. I knew, for me, it was a great 
honour, yet, it made ^ue feel, once more, so like a 
mute upon the stage, that I could scarce believe my- 
self only performing my own real character. 

" Mrs. Stainforth and I had some time to stand 
upon the stairs before the opening of the doors. We 
joined Mrs. Fielding and her daughters, and all en- 
tered together, but the crowd parted us ; they all ran 
on, and got in as they could, and I remained alone at 
the door. They soon found me out, and made signs 
to me, which I saw not, and then they sent me mes- 
sages that they had kept room for me just by them. 
I had received orders from the Queen to go out at 



MADAME D'ARBLAY. 113 

the end of the second country dance ; I thought, there- 
fore, that as I now was seated by the door, I had bet- 
ter be content, and stay where I could make my exit 
in a moment, and without trouble or disturbance. A 
queer-looking old lady sat next me, and I spoke to 
her now and then, by way of seeming to belong to 
somebody. She did not appear to know whether it 
were advisable for her to answer me or not, seeing 
me alone, and with high head ornaments ; but as I 
had no plan but to save appearances to the surround- 
ers, I was perfectly satisfied that my very concise 
propositions should meet with yet more laconic re- 
plies. 

"Before we parted, however, finding me quiet and 
inoffensive, she became voluntarily sociable, and I 
felt so much at home by being still in a part of the 
palace, that I needed nothing further than just so 
much notice as not to seem an object to be avoided. 

" The sight which called me to that spot perfectly 
answered all my expectations : the air, manner, and 
countenance of the Queen^ as she goes round the cir- 
cle, are truly graceful and engaging : I thought I 
could understand, by the motion of her lips, and the 
expression of her face, even at the height and dis- 
tance of the Chamberlain's box, the gracious and 
pleasant speeches she made to all whom she approach- 
ed. With my glass, you know, I can see just as 
other people see with the naked eye. 

" The Princesses looked extremely lovely, and the 
whole court was in the utmost splendour. 

" At the appointed moment I slipped through the 
door, leaving my old lady utterly astonished at my 
sudden departure, and I passed, alone and quietly, to 
Mr. Rhamus's apartment, which was appropriated 
for the company to wait in. Here I desired a ser- 
vant I met with to call my man ; he was not to be 
found. I went down the stairs, and made them call 

K* 



114 MEMOIRS OF 

him aloud, by my name ; all to no purpose. Then 
the chairmen were called, but also in vain ! 

" What to do I knew not ; though I was still in a 
part of the palace, it was separated by many courts, 
avenues, passages, and alleys, from the Queen's or my 
own apartments; and though I had so lately passed' 
them, 1 could not remember the way, nor at that late 
hour could I have walked, dressed as I then was, and 
the ground wet with recent rain, even if 1 had had a 
servant ; I had therefore ordered the chair allotted me 
for these days ; but chair and chairmen and footmen 
were alike out of the way. 

" My fright lest the Queen should wait for me was 
very serious. I believe there are state apartments 
through which she passes, and therefore I had no 
chance to know when she retired from the ball-room. 
Yet could I not stir, and was forced to return to the 
room whence I came, in order to wait for John, that 
I might be out of the w^ay of the cold winds which 
infested the hall. 

" [ now found a young clergyman, standing by the 
fire. I suppose my anxiety was visible, for he instant- 
ly inquired if he could assist me. I declined his oifer, 
but walked up and down, making frequent questions 
about my chair and John. 

" He then very civilly said, ' You seem distressed, 
ma'am ; would you permit me the honour to see for 
your chair, or, if it is not come, as you seem hurried, 
would you trust me to see you home V 

" I thanked him, but could not accept his services. 
He was sorry, he said, that I refused him, but could 
not wonder, as he was a stranger. I made some apo- 
logizing answer, and remained in that unpleasant si- 
tuation till, at length, a hackney-chair was procured 
me. My new acquaintance would take no denial to 
handing me to the chair. When I got in, I told the 
men to carry me to the palace. 



115 

" ^ We are there now ! cried they ; what part of the 
palace V 

" I was now in a distress the most extraordinary : 
I had always gone to my apartment in a chair, and 
had been carried by chairmen olHcially appointed ; 
and, except that it w^as in St. James's Palace, 1 knew 
nothing of my situation* 

" ' ^ear the park,' I told them, and saw my new es- 
quire look utterly amazed at me. 

" ' Ma'am,' said he, ' half the palace is in the park !' 

'' ' I don't know how to direct,' cried I, in the great- 
est embarrassment, * but it is somewhere between Pall 
Mall and the Park.' 

" ' I know where the lady hves well enough/ cried 
one of the chairmen, ' 'tis in St. James's Street.' 

" ' No, no,' cried I, ' 'tis in St. James's Palace.' 

" ' Up with the chair !' cried the other man, ' I know 
best — 'tis in South Audley Street ; 1 know the lady 
well enough.' 

" Think what a situation at the moment ! I found 
they had both been drinking the Queen's health till 
they knew not what they said, and could with diffi- 
culty stand. Yet they lifted me up, and though I call- 
ed in the most terrible fright to be let out, the} carried 
me down the steps. 

" 1 now actually screamed for help, believing they 
would carry me off' to South Audley Street ; and now 
my good genius, who had waited patiently in the 
crowd, forcibly stopped the chairmen, who abused him 
violently, and opened the door himself, and I ran back 
into the hall. 

" You may imagine how earnestly I returned my 
thanks for this most seasonable assistance, without 
which I should almost have died with terror, for where 
they might have taken or dropped me, or how or 
where left me, who could say 1 

" He begged me to go again up stairs, but my ap- 



116 MEMOIRS OF 

prehension about the Queen prevented me. I knew 
she was to have nobody but me, and that her jewels, 
though few, were to be intrusted back to the Queen's 
house to no other hands. I must, 1 said, go, be it in 
what manner it might. All I could devise was to 
summon Mr, Rhamus, the page. I had never seen 
him, but my attendance upon the Queen would be an 
apology for the application, and I determined to put 
myself under his immediate protection. 

" Mr. Rhamus was nowhere to be found ; he was 
already supposed to be gone to the Queen's house, to 
wait the arrival of his Majesty. This news redoubled 
my fear j and now my new acquaintance desired me 
to employ him in making inquiries for me as to the di- 
rection 1 wanted. 

" It was almost ridiculous, in the midst of my dis- 
tress, to be thus at a loss for an address to myself! I 
felt adverse to speaking my name amongst so many 
listeners, and only told him he would much oblige me 
by finding out a direction to Mrs. Haggerdorn's rooms. 

" He went up stairs ; and returning, said he could 
now direct the chairmen, if I did not fear trusting them. 

" 1 did fear 1 even shook with fear ; yet my hor- 
ror of disappointing the Queen upon such a night pre- 
vailed over all reluctance, and I ventured once more 
into the chair, thanking this excellent Samaritan, and 
begging him to give the direction very particularly. 

'" Imagine, however, my gratitude and my relief, 
when, instead of hearing the direction, I heard only 
these words, ' Follow me.' And then did this truly 
benevolent young man himself play the footman, in 
walking by the side of the chair till we came to an 
alley, where he bid them turn ; but they answered him 
with an oath, and ran out with me, till the poles ran 
against a wall, for they had entered a passage in which 
there was no outlet ! 

" i would have fain got out, but they would not 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 117 

hear me ; they would only pull the chair back, and 
go on another way. But my guardian angel told them 
to follow him, or not, at their peril ; and then walked 
before the chair. 

" We next came to a court, where we were stop- 
ped by the sentinels. They said they had orders not 
to admit any hackney chairs. The chairmen vowed 
they would make way ; I called out aloud to be set 
down ; the sentinels said they would run their bayonets 
through the first man that attempted to dispute their 
orders. I then screamed out again to be set down, 
and my new and good friend peremptorily forced them 
to stop, and opening the door with violence, offered 
me his arm, saying, ' You had better trust yourself 
with me, ma'am !' 

" Most thankfully I now accepted what so fruitless- 
ly I had dechned, and I held by his arm, and we walk- 
ed on together — but neither of us knew whither, nor 
the right way from the wrong ! It was really a terri- 
ble situation. 

" The chairmen followed us, clamorous for money, 
and full of abuse. They demanded half a crown ; 
my companion refused to listen to such an imposition ; 
my shaking hand could find no purse, and I begged 
him to pay them what they asked, that they might 
leave us. He did ; and when they were gone, I shook 
less, and was able to pay that one part of the debt I 
was now contracting. 

" We wandered about, heaven knows where, in a 
way the most alarming and horrible to myself imagi- 
nable : for I never knew where I was — It was mid- 
night. I concluded the Queen was waiting for me. — It 
was wet. My head was full dressed. I was under 
the care of a total stranger ; and I knew not which 
side to take, wherever we came. Inquiries were vain. 
The sentinels alone were in sight, and they are so con- 
tinually changed that they knew no more of Mrs. Hag- 
gerdorn than if she had never resided here. 



118 MEMOIRS OP 

" At length I spied a door open, and I begged to 
enter it at a venture, for information. Fortunately a 
person stood in the passage, who instantly spoke to 
me by name ; I never heard that sound with more 
glee : to me he was a stranger, but I suppose he had 
seen me in some of the apartments. I begged him to 
direct me straight to the Queen's rooms : he did ; and 
T then took leave of my most humane new friend, with 
a thousand acknowledgments for his benevolence and 
services. 

" Was it not a strange business ? I can never say 
what an agony of fright it cost me at the time, nor 
ever be sufficiently g^rateful for the kind assistance so 
providentially afforded me. 

" I found myself just in time ; and I desired imme- 
diately to speak with Mr. Nicolay, the page, of whom 
I requested a direction to my own rooms.' 



CHAPTER XL 

Travelling to Windsor with Mr. Turbulent— Discussion— Religion 
and Morality — The Queen's opinion of Mr. Turbulent — The young 
Clergyman again — Josephus — Mr. Turbulent and the Princess 
Augusta — La Coquette Corrigee — The Queen studying Botany — ■ 
The Drama of '' Seduction " — An allusion in the epilogue to the 
Author of '' Cecilia" — The King's enjoyment of Miss Burney's 
Confusion — Sympathy of the Princesses — Mrs. Piozzi's return to 
England. 

" Saturday, Jan. 20th. — To-day began our short 
weekly visits for the winter to Windsor. I travelled 
with Mr. Turbulent, and wnth him only. 

" The journey was rather awkward. To be three 
hours and a half tete-a-t6te with a person so little 
known to me, and of whom I had been unable to form 
any precise opinion, while still in a feeble state of 
health, and still feebler of spirits, was by no means 



119 

desirable ; and yet the less, as there was something in 
the uncertainty of my notions that led me to fear him, 
though I knew not exactly why. 

" The conversation that ensued did not remove these 
difficulties : wholly brought on and supported by him- 
self, the subjects were such as I at least wished to dis- 
cuss with hiin — religion and morality. 

" With respect to morality, his opinions seemed 
upon rather too large a scale for that perfect measure- 
ment which suited my more circumscribed ideas. No- 
thing faulty fell from him, but much was thrown out 
that, though not positively censurable, had far better 
never be uttered. He again revived the subject of 
Madame de Genlis ; agam I defended her, and again, 
"while he palliated all the wrong with which he char- 
ged her, he chose to disbelieve the seriousness of my 
assertions in her favour. True, however, it is, I do 
believe her innocent of all crime but indiscretion, and 
of that I know not how to clear her, since to nothing 
softer can I attribute the grounds upon which so much 
calumny has been raised. I imagine her, and so I 
told him, to have fallen at an early and inexperienced 
period into designing and depraved hands, and not to 
have been able, from cruel and distressed circum- 
stances, to give up the unworthy protection of a pro- 
fligate patron, though her continuing under it has 
stained her fame for evermore ! Perhaps her hus- 
band, himself worthless, would not permit her — per- 
haps she feared the future ruin of her two children — 
perhaps, in a country such as France, she did not, in 
that first youth, dare even to think of relinquishing the 
protection of a Prince of the blood. She was only 
fifteen w^hen she was married — she told me that her- 
self. How hard do I think her lot, to fall into the 
hands she must have ever despised, and so to be en- 
tangled in them as not to dare show to the world, in 
the only way the world would believe her, the abhor- 



120 MEMOIRS OF 

rence of her mind to the character of her patron, by 
quitting a roof under which she could not hve without 
censure ! 

"The subject, however, was so nice, it was difficult 
to discuss, and I wished much to avoid it, sincj there 
was so much that I could not explain w^ithout apparent 
concessions against my own case, which he instantly 
seized, and treated as actual occurrences. He praised 
her as much as I praised her myself, and I found he 
admired her with as sincere a warmth : but though 
we agreed thus far, and yet farther, in thinking all 
that might be wrong in her was venial, we differed 
most essentially in our opinion of what that WTong 
might be. He thought her positively fallen, yet with 
circumstances claiming every indulgence. I thought 
her positively saved, yet with circumstances authoriz- 
ing suspicion. 

" I tried what was possible to fly from this disquisi- 
tion, but I found I had one to deal with not easy to 
controL He kept it up, forcibly and steadily, till I 
w^as compelled to be silent to his assertions, from want 
of proof beyond opinion for answering them. 

" He then proceeded to a general vindication of the 
victims to such sort of situations, in which I could by 
no means concur ; but when I resisted, he startled me 
by naming as individuals amongst them some charac- 
ters of whom I had conceived far superior notions. I 
heard him quite with grief, and I will not write their 
names. I cannot look upon him as a detractor, and 
I saw him by no means severe in his exactions from 
female virtue : I gave, therefore, and give, imphcit 
credit to his information, though I gave not, and give 
not, any to his inferences and general comments. 

" ' Depend upon it,' said he, ' whh whatever preju- 
dice, and just prejudice, you may look upon these fal- 
len characters at large, and considered in a class, you 
will generally find them, individiiallyj amongst the 



MADAME d'aRBLAIT. 121 

most amiable of your sex : I had almost said amongst 
the most virtuous ; but amongst those who possess the 
greatest virtues, thoughnotevery virtue, undoubtedly. 
Their own sweetness and sensibility will generally 
have been the sole source of their misconduct.' 

" 1 could neither agree nor dispute upon such a sub- 
ject with such an antagonist, and I took my usual 
resource, of letting the argument die away for want of 
food with which to nourish it. 

" I did not fare the better, however, by the next 
theme, to which the death of this led us: Religion. 

" There is no topic in the world upon w^hich I am 
so careful how I speak seriously as this. By * seri- 
ously,' I do not mean gravely, but with earnestness ; 
mischief here is so easily done, so difficultly reformed. 
I have made it, therefore, a rule through my life ne- 
ver to talk in deiail upon religious opinions, but with 
those of whose principles I have the fullest convic- 
tion and highest respect. It is therefore very, very 
rarely I have ever entered upon the subject but with 
female friends or acquaintances, whose hearts I have 
well known, and who would be as unlikely to give as 
to receive any perplexity from the discourse. But 
with regard to men, I have known none with whom 
I have willingly conferred upon them, except Dr. 
Johnson, Mr. Locke, and Mr. Smelt, and one more. 

" My companion was urgent to enter into a contro- 
versy which I was equally urgent to avoid ; and I 
knew net whether most to admire or to dread the skill 
and capacity with which he pursued his purpose, in 
defiance of my constant retreat. When, in order to 
escape, I made only light and slight answers lo his 
queries and remarks, he gravely said I led him into 
* strange suspicions' concerning my religious tenets : 
and when I made to this some rally: '*g reply, he so- 
lemnly declared he feared I was a ' mere philosopher' 
on these subjects, and totally incredulous with regard 
to all revealed religion* l 



122 MEMOIRS OF 

"This was an attack which even in pleasantry I 
liked not, as the very words gave me a secret shock. 
I therefore then spoke to the point, and frankly told 
him that subjects which I held to be so sacred, I made 
it an invariable rule never to discuss in casual con- 
versations. 

"' And how, ma'fim,' said he, suddenly assuming 
the authoritative seiiousness of his professional cha- 
racter and dignity, ' and how, ma'am, can you better 
discuss matters of this solemn nature than now, with 
a man to whom their consideration particularly be- 
longs? — with a clergyman V 

" True, thought I ; but I must better be apprised 
of your principles, ere I trust you with debating mine ! 
Yet ashamed to decline so serious a call, I could 
only make a general answer, that as I was very well 
satisfied at present, I did not wish to make myself un- 
necessary difficulties by any discussions whatsoever. 

" * And why unnecessary, ma'am ? Do you fear 
to sift your opinions V 

'' * No — but I want them not to be sifted by others.' 

" ' And upon what principle do you decline to have 
them examined V 

" * Because I see not any good in such an examina- 
tion to others ; and for myself, I am clear and satis- 
fied — and what should I aim at more V 

" ' Upon what grounds are you satisfied, ma'am V 

" ' Fairly afraid of him, and conscious that one seri- 
ous answer would draw on as many more as he pleased, 
I honestly told him I must beg to decline at once a 
subject in which no good could accrue to him, and 
none that I knew was likely to accrue to myself. 

" A little alTronted, he somewhat haughtily said, 
' You disdain then, ma'am, to enter into this topic with 
me?' 

" * No, sir, not with you particularly ; but 1 love not 
to talk upon controversial points with any body.' 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 123 

" * Are you a Catholic, ma'am V 

«« No, indeed!' 

"^ If you take your religion upon faich, and without 
venturing at any investigation, what else can you call 
yourself?' 

"Again I made "what slight answers I could sug- 
gest, struggling with all my might to fiy from the 
theme entirely ; and when at last I fairly assumed 
courage to declare I would say no more upon it, he 
raised his hands and eyes, and wiih an air of being 
greatly consternated, protested — 

" ' By all, then, that I can gather, I see and can in- 
fer but one of these two things — either that you are a 
Roman Catholic, or an esprit Jhi't /' 

" Even this, however, would not provoke me to 
the controversy — though it provoked me with the 
logician, I frankly confess ; and nothing but predeter- 
mined steadiness upon this point could have guarded 
me, in such an attack, from any intricacy or labyrinth 
into which he might have amused himself by leading 
me. 

" These were the principal features of our tete-a- 
tete, whi»h left me as unsettled as ever in my notions 
of my companions. 

" When, afterwards, I attended the Queen, she in- 
quired of me particularly how the journey had passed, 
and if it was not very pleasant 7 I made some short 
and general answer ; and she cried ' Did you read 1 
Did Mr. Turbulent read to you V 

" ' No, ma'am, we had no provision of that sort ; I 
heartily wish I had thought of it ; I should have liked 
it exceedingly.' 

" ' But surely you do not like reading better than 
conversation !' 

" ' No, ma'am. — not better than some conversation.'" 

" ' Surely not better than Mr. Turbulent's ? Nobody 

converses better than Mr. Turbulent j nobody has more 



124 MEMOIRS OF 

general knowledge, nor a more pleasing and easy 
way of communicating it. 

" Fearing to do mischief, I assented — but faintly, 
however, for indeed he had perplexed far more than 
he had pleased me. The Queen again made his 
panegyric, and in very warm terms, and seemed 
quite disappointed at the coldness of my concurrence. 

*■' Good there must be, I was sure, in a man so hon- 
oured, who for many years has been tried in his pre- 
sent trying situation, of teacher to the elder Princesses, 
and occasionally to her Majesty herself. I resolved, 
therefore, to suspend the judgment which was inclin- 
ing on the evil side, and to wait undecided till further 
opportunity gave me fairer reason for fixing my 
opinions. 

" January 23d. A singular circumstance happened 
this evening, and ono which I am sure will please you 
both to hear. While I was in Mrs. Schwellenberg's 
room, with only Mrs. Planta and herself, Mr. Griffith 
was announced, and who should I see enter but the 
very clergyman to whom I had been so much obliged 
on the birfhnight ! 

*• I started, and so did he, and he could not make 
his bow to Mrs. Schwellenberg, till he received my 
compliments of thanks for his good offices, and of 
pleasure in this opportunity to make them to him. 

The accident that brought him here will, I hope, 
turn out to his advantage. He has a sister in the 
household, as laundress to the Princesses ; and she is 
a great favourite with Mrs. Schwellenberg. This 
brother has some small living, but greatly requires 
something more ; and he came to-night to reikd to 
Mrs. Schwellenberg, that she might make some report 
of him, — to whom or how I know not, but surely my 
best wishes must accompany him. He had not at all, 
he said, known me, till he went up stairs to inquire 
Mrs. Haggerdorn's direction, and then he heard my 
own name, which had much surprised him. 



125 

" Mrs. Schwellenberg speedily desired him to read ; 
and had a standing desk procured him, such as is used 
by the readers to the Queen, who are not, of course, 
allowed to sit down. 

" ' What book is it to be, ma'am,' cried he, ^ some- 
thing interesting, I hope !' 

'' ' No/ cried she, ' I won't have nothing what you 
call novels, what you call romances, what you call 
histories — I might not read such what you call stuff, 
—not I !' 

" The good Mrs. Planta, who is an excellent old 
woman, a Swiss or Italian by birth, and cheerful, gay, 
social, and good humoured, evidently feared I should 
look upon this speech as a personal reflection ; and 
therefore, to soften it, said ' O Miss Burney ! what a 
pretty book you write ! I cry it ! I cry just like littel 
baby ! — and then I laugh so ! — you would think 
me rnad, for an old woman to laugh so !' 

" I tried to stop her, but Mr. Griffith seized the 
moment to exJaim, ' How little did I think, the other 
night, that the lady I had the honour to attend to her 
chair was the Miss Burney from whom I had received 
such pleasure !' 

" I begged him to read, and the book was brought: 
it was Josephus, which is the only book in favour at 
present, and serves for all occasions, and is quoted to 
solve all difficulties. 
* * * * * 

" March 1st. — With all the various humours in 
which I had seen Mr. Turbulent, he gave me this 
evening a surprise, by his conduct to one of the Prin- 
cesses, nearly the same that I had experienced from 
him myself The Princess Augusta came, during 
coffee, for a knotting shuttle of the Queen's. ^ While 
speaking to me, he stood behind and exclaimed, d 
demi voix, as if to himself, ' Comme elk est jolie ce 
soir, son Altesse Royale P And then, seeing her blush 

L* 



126 MEMOffiS OF 

extremely, he clasped his hands in high pretended 
confusion, and hiding his head, called out ' Queferai 
je ? The Princess has heard me !' 

"'Pray, Mr. Turbulent,' cried she, hastily, ' what 
play are you to read to-night V 

" * You shall choose, ma'am ; either La Coquette 
Corrigee or — [he named another I have forgotten.] 

" ' no !' cried she, ' that last is shocking ! don't 
let me hear that !' 

" ' I understand you, ma'am. You fix, then, upon 
La Coquette ? La Coquette is your Royal Highncss's 
taste V 

" ' No, I am sure I did not say that.' 

" * Yes, ma'am, by implication. And certainly, 
therefore,! will read it to please your Royal Highness !' 

" ' No, pray don't ; for I like none of them !' 

" ' None of them, ma'am V 

" * No, none ; — no French jylays at all !' 

" And away she was running, with a droll air, that 
acknowledged she had said something to provoke him. 

" ' This is a declaration, ma'am, I must beg you to 
explain !' cried he, gliding adroitly between the Prin- 
cess and the door, and shutting it with his back. 

'' * No, no, I can't explain it ; so pray, Mr. Turbu- 
lent, do open the door.' 

" ' Not for the world, ma'am, with such a stain un- 
cleared upon your Royal Highness's taste and feeling !' 

" She told him she positlvel}^ could not stay, and 
begged him to let her pass instantly. 

" But he would hear her no more than he has heard 
me, protesting he was too much shocked for her to 
suffer her to depart without clearing her own credit ! 

" He conquered at last, and thus forced to speak, she 
turned round to us and said, ' Well — if I must, then, 
I will appeal to these ladies, w^ho understand such 
things far better than I do, and ask them if it is not 
true about these French plays, that they are all so like 



127 

one to another, that to hear them in this manner every 
night is enough to tire one V 

" ' Pray, then, madam,' cried he, ^ if French plays 
have the misfortune to displease you, what JYational 
plays have the honour of your preference V 

" I saw he meant something that she understood 
better than me, for she blushed again, and called out 
' Pray open the door at once ! I can stay no longer ; 
do let me go, Mr. Turbulent. 

" ' Not till you have answered that question ma'am ! 
what Country has plays to your Royal Highness's 
taste V 

"' MissBurney,' cried she impatiently, yet laughing, 

* pray do you take him away ! — Pull him !' 

'- He bowed to me very politely for the office ; but 
I frankly answered her, ' Indeed, ma'am, I dare not 
undertake him ! I cannot manage him at all.' 

" ' The Country ! the Country! Princess Augusta ! 
name the happy Country .'' was all that she could 
gain. 

" ' Order him away. Miss Burney,' cried she : ' 'tis 
your room : order him away from the door.' 

" ' Name it, ma'am, name it !' exclaimed he ; 

* name but the chosen nation V 

" And then, fixing her with the most provoking 
eyes, ' Ed-ce la Danemarc V he cried. 

" She coloured violently, and quite angry with him, 
called out, 'Mr. Turbulent, how can you be such a 
fool V 

" And now I found ... the Prince Royal of Den- 
mark was in his meaning and in her understanding ! 

" He bowed to the ground in gratitude for the term 
fool^ but added, with pretended submission to her will, 

* Very wel!, ma'am, s'il ne faut lire que les comedies 
Vaiioises.^ 

" ' Do let me go !' cried she seriously ; and then he 
made way, with a profound bow as she passed, saying, 



128 " MEMOIRS OF 

' Very well, ma'am, La Coquette, then ? your Royal 
Highness chooses La Coquette Corrigee V 

" ' Corrigee ? That never was done !' cried she, 
with all her sweet good humour, the moment she 
got out and off she ran, like lightning, to the Queen's 
apartments. 

" What say you to Mr. Turbulent now ? 

" For my part I was greatly surprised. I had not 
imagined any man, but the King or Prince of Wales, 
had ever ventured at a badinage of this sort with any 
of the Princesses ; nor do I suppose any other man 
ever did. Mr. Turbulent is so great a favorite with 
all the Royal Family, that he safely ventures upon 
whatever he pleases, and doubtless they find, in his 
courage and his rhodomontading, a novelty extreme- 
ly amusing to them, or they would not fail to bring 
about a change. 

" For myself, I own, when I perceived in him this 
mode of conduct with the Princesses, I saw his flights, 
and his rattling, aad his heroics, in a light of mere 
innocent play, from exuberance of high spirits ; and I 
looked upon them, and upon him, in a fairer light. 

" Tuesday, March 6th. — I spent almost all this 
morning with Her Majesty, hearing her botanical les- 
son, and afterwards looking over some prints of Her- 
culaneurn, till the Princess Augusta brought a paper, 
and a message from Mr. Turbulent, with his humble 
request to explain it himself to Her Majesty : it was 
something he had been ordered to translate. 

" yes !' cried the Queen readily, ' let him come ; I 
am always glad to see him.' 

" He came immediately ; and most glad was I 
when dismissed to make way for him : for he prac- 
tices a thousand mischievous tricks, to confuse me, in 
the Royal presence ; most particularly by certain 
signs which he knows I comprehend, made by his eye- 
brows; for he is continually assuring me he always 



129 

discovers my thoughts and opinions by the motion of 
mine, v/hich it is his most favom ite gambol to pre- 
tend constantly to examine, as well as his first theme 
of gallantry to compliment, though in a style too 
highflown and rhodomontading to be really embarras- 
sing, or seriously offensive. Nevertheless, in the 
Royal presence, my terror lest he should be observed, 
and any questions should be asked of the meaning of 
his signs and tokens, makes it seriously disagreeable 
to me to continue there a moment when he is in the 



" And now for a few general anecdotes that belong 
to this month. 

" I had the pleasure of two or three visits from 
Mr. Bryant, whose loyal regard for the King and 
Queen makes him eagerly accept every invitation, 
from the hope of seeing them in my room ; and one 
of the days they both came in to speak to him, and 
were accompanied by the two eldest Princesses, who 
stood chatting with me by the door the whole time, 
and saying comical things upon royal personages in 
tragedies, particularly Princess Augusta, who has a 
great deal of sport in her disposition. She very 
gravely asserted she thought some of those princes on 
the stage looked really quite as well as some she 
knew off it. 

" Once about this time I went to a play myself, 
which surely I may live long enough and never for- 
get. It was ^ Seduction,' a very clever piece, but 
containing a dreadful picture of vice and dissipation 
in high life, written by Mr. Miles Andrews, with an 
epilogue — 0, such an epilogue ; I was listening to it 
with uncommon attention, from a compliment paid in 
it to Mrs. Montague, among other female writers ; but 
imagine what became of my attention when 1 sudden- 
ly was struck with these lines, or something like 
them : — 



130 MEMOIRS OF 

' Let sweet Cecilia gain your just applause, 
Whose every passion yields to Reason's laws.* 

"To hear, wholly unprepared and unsuspicious, 
such Lines in a Theatre — seated in a Royal Box — 
and with the Royal Family and their suite immedi- 
ately opposite me — was it not a singular circumstance 1 
To describe my embarrassment would be impossible. 
My whole head was leaning forward, with my opera- 
glass in my hand, examining Miss Farren, who spoke 
the epilogue. Instantly I shrunk back, so astonished 
and so ashamed of my public situation, that I was 
almost ready to take to my heels and run, for it seem- 
ed as if I were there purposely in that conspicuous 
place — 

' To list attentive to my own applause,' 

" The King innmediately raised his opera-glass to 
look at me, laughing heartily— the Queen's presently 
took the same direction — all the Princesses looked up, 
and all the attendants, and all the maids of honour ! 

" I protest I was never more at a loss what to do 
with myself : nobody was in the front row with me 
but Miss Goldsworthy, who instantly seeing how I 
was disconcerted, prudently and good-naturedly for- 
bore taking any notice of me. I sat as far back as I 
could, and kept my fan against the exposed profile 
for the rest of the night, never once leaning forward, 
nor using my glass. 

" None of the Royal Family spoke to me upon this 
matter till a few days after ; but I heard from Mrs. 
Delany they had all declared themselves sorry for the 
confusion it had caused me. And some time after, the 
Queen could not forbear saying, ' I hope, Miss Burney, 
you minded the epilogue the other night V 

" And the King, very comically, said, ' I took a 
peep at you !— I could not help that. I wanted to see 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 131 

how yon looked when your father first discovered 
your writing — and now I think I know ! ' 

" The Princesses all said something, and the kind 
Princess Elizabeth, in particular, declared she had 
pitied me with all her heart, in being so situated when 
such a compliment was made. 

"But what was most interesting, and, alas! most 
melancholy to me in this month, was news of the 
return of Mrs. Piozzi to England ! I heard it first 
from Mr. Stanhope, but my dear Fredy will have told 
all that also, since she spent with me the same even- 
ing.- 



CHAPTER XII. 

A visit from Dr. Beattie— Return of the Duke of York— Joy of 
the Royal Family — Mrs. Siddon- engaged to read a play at the 
Peilace — Miss Burney her entertainer — Her Opinion of Mrs. Sid- 
dons— Visit to Dr. Herschel — His sister — Her character and ap- 
pearance — Their mode of working together — The Telescope. 

Miss Burney gives the following description of Dr. 
Beattie, w^ho had requested Mrs. Delany to procure 
him an interview with her. 

" I kept my appointment with Dr. Beattie, and 
was much gratified by so doing. I found him plea- 
sant, unaffected, unassuming, and full of conversable 
intelligence ; with a round, thick, clunch figure, that 
promises nothing either of his works or his discourse ; 
yet his eye, at intervals, and when something breaks 
from him pointed and sudden, shoots forth a ray of 
genius that instantly lights up his whole countenance. 
His voice and his manners are particularly and pleas- 
mgly mild, and seem to announce an urbanity of char- 
acter both inviting and edifying. 



132 MEMOIRS OF 

" My very high admiration of his two principal 
productions, ' The Minstrel' and the ' Immutability of 
Truth,' made it a real satisfaction to me to see their 
author ; and finding him such as I have described, I 
felt a desire to be acquainted with him that made me 
regret my little likelihood of meeting with him 
again." 

The next day they again met, and the learned Doc- 
tor, made, if possible, even a more agreeable mipres- 
sion on Miss Burney than he had done before. In 
the course of the evening Mrs. Delany chanced to be 
called out of the room, and Dr. Beattie in a low voice 
but looking another way, very gently said — " I must 
now, madam, seize an opportunity for which I have 
long wished, to tell you of the equal amazement and 
pleasure I have received from you." This remark was 
followed by warm eulogiums upon Miss Burney's 
productions and many flattering acknowledgements 
of the pleasure he had derived from their perusal. 

The ensuing extracts from Miss Burney's Diary of 
this year are not without interest. 

" Thursday, August 2nd.— To-day, after a seven 
years' absence, arrived the Duke of York. I saw 
him alight from his carriage, with an eagerness, a 
vivacity, that assured me of the affectionate joy with 
which he returned tO his country and family. But the 
joy of his excellent father? — that there is no de- 
scribing ! It was the glee of the first youth — nay, of 
ardent and innocent infancy, — so pure it seemed, so 
warm, so open, so unmixed ! 

" Softer joy was the Queen's — mild, equal, and 
touching ; while all the Princesses wore in one uni- 
versal rapture. 

" It was a happy day throughout : no one could 
forbear the strongest hopes that the long-earned, long- 
due recompense of paternal kindness and goodness 
was now to be amply paid. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 133" 

" To have the pleasure of seeing the Royal Family 

in this happy assemblage, I accompanied Miss P 

on the Terrace. It was indeed an affecting sight to 
view the general content ; but that of the King went 
to my very heart, so delighted he looked-— so proud 
of his son — so benevolently pleased that every one 
should witness his satisfaction. 

" The Terrace was very full ; all Windsor and its 
neighbourhood poured in upon it, to see the Prince, 
whose w^hole demeanour seemed promising to merit 
his flattering reception ; gay, yet grateful — modest, 
yet unembarrassed. 

" Wednesday, 15th. — I shall now have an adven- 
ture to relate that will much — and not disagreeably 
surprise both my dear readers. 

" Mrs. Schwellenberg's illness occasioned my at- 
tending the Queen alone ; and when my official busi- 
ness was ended, she giaciously detained me, to read 
to me a new paper, called ^ ODa Podrlda,' which is 
now publishing periodically. Nothing very bright — 
nothing very deficient. 

" In the afternoon, while I was drinking coffee with 
Mrs. Schwellenberg, — or, rather, looking a1 it, since 
I rarely swallow any, — her Majesty came into the 
room, and soon after a little German discourse with 
Mrs. Schwellenberg told me Mrs. Siddons had been 
ordered to the Lodge, to read a play, and desired I 
w^ould receive her in my room. 

" I felt a little queer in the office ; I had only seen 
her twice or thrice, in large assemblies, at Miss 
Monckton's, and at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, and never 
had been introduced to her, nor spoken with her. 
However, in this dead and tame life I now lead, such 
an interview was by no means undesirable. 

" I had just got to the bottom of the stairs, when 
she entered the passage gallery. I took her into the 
tea-room, and endeavoured to make amends for for- 



134 MEMOIRS OF 

mer distance and taciturnity, by an open and cheerful 
rt^ception. I had heard from sundry people (in old 
days) that she wished to make the acquaintance ; but 
I thought it, then, one of too conspicuous a sort for 
the quietness I had so much difficidty to preserve in 
my ever-increasing connexions. Here all was chang- 
ed ; I received her by the Queen's comm.ands, and 
was perfectly well inclined to reap some pleasure 
from the meeting. 

" But, now that we came so near, I was much dis- 
appointed in my expectations. I know not if my 
dear Fredy has met with her in private, but I fancy 
approximation is not highly in her favour. I found 
her the heroine of a tragedy, sublime, elevated, and 
solemn. In face and person, truly noble and com- 
manding ; in manners, quiet and stiff; in voice, deep 
and dragging ; and in conversation, formal, sententi- 
ous, calm, and dry. I expected her to have been all 
that is interesting ; the delicacy and sweetness with 
which she seizes every opportunity to strike and to 
captivate upon the stage had persuaded me that her 
mind was formed with that peculiar susceptibility 
which, in different modes, must give equal powers to 
attract and to delight in common life. But I was 
very much mistaken. As a stranger, I must have ad- 
mired her noble appearance and beautiful counte- 
nance, and have regretted that nothing in her conver- 
sation kept pace w^ith their promise ; and, as a cele- 
brated actress, I had still only to do the same. 

" Whether fame and success have spoiled her, or 
whether she only possesses the skill of representing 
and embellishing materials with which she is furnished 
by others, I know not ; but still I remain disappointed. 

" She was scarcely seated, and a little general dis- 
course begun, before she told me — all at once — that 
* There was no part she had ever so much wished to 
act as that of Cecilia.' 



MADA.ME d'aRBLAY. 135 

'* I made some little acknowledgment, and hm-ried 
to ask when she had seen Sir Joshua Reynolds, Miss 
Palmer, and others with whom I knew her acquaint- 
ed. 

" The play she was to read was ' The Provoked 
Husband.'i* She appeared neither alarmed nor elated 
by her summons, but calmly to look upon it as a thing 
of course, from her celebrity." ****** 

" September. — My memorandums of this month 
are so scanty, that I shall not give them in their regu- 
lar dates. 

" To me the month must needs be sweet that 
brought to me friends dearest to my heart j and here 
again let me thank them for the reviving week be- 
stowed upon me from the 10th to the 17th. 

" On the evciiing they left me, my kind Mrs. Dela- 
ny carried me to Dr. Herschel's. Madame la Fite 
said, afterwards, that, nothing remaining upon earth 
good enough to console me for les Lockes and Mrs. 
Phillips, I was fain to travel to the moon, for comfort. 
I think it was very well said. 

" And, indeed, I really found myself much pleased 
with the little excursion. Dr. Herschel is a delight- 
ful man ; so unassuming, with his great knowledge, 
so willing to dispense it to the ignorant, and so cheer- 
ful and easy in his general manners, that were he no 
genius it would be impossible not to remark him as a 
pleasing and sensible man. 

" I was equally pleased with his sister, whom I had 
wished to see very much, for her great celebrity in 
her brother's science. She is very little, very gentle, 
very modest, and very ingenuous ; and her manners 
are those of a person unhackneyed and unawed by 
the world, yet desirous to meet and to return its 
smiles. I love not the philosophy that braves it. This 
brother and sister seem gratified with its favour, at 
the same time that their own pursuit is all-sufficient 
to them without it. 



136 MEMOIRS OF 

" I inquired of Miss Herschel if she was still comet* 
hunting, or content now with the moon ? The 
brother answered that he had the charge of the moon, 
but he left to his sister to sweep the heavens for com- 
ets. 

"Their manner of working together is most in- 
genious and curious. While he makes his observa- 
tions without-doors, he has a method of communica- 
ting them to his sister so immediately, that she can 
instantly commit them to paper, with the precise mo- 
ment in which they are made. By this means he lo- 
ses not a minute, when there is any thing particularly 
worth observing, by writing it down, but can still pro- 
ceed, yet still have his accounts and calculations ex- 
act. The methods he has contrived to facilitate this 
commerce I have not the terms to explain, though 
his simple manner of showing them made me fully, 
at the time, comprehend them. 

" The night, unfortunately, was dark, and I could 
not see the moon with the famous new telescope. I 
mean not the great telescope through which I had 
taken a walk, for that is still incomplete, but another 
of uncommon powers. I saw Saturn, however, and 
his satelites, very distinctly, and their appearance 
was very beautiful. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

An eventful year — Death of Mrs. Delany — Her last words — Mrs De- 
lany's niece — Trial of Hasting's — Decline of the King's health — 
Alarm of the Royal Family— Insanity of the King— Scene at Din- 
ner — Confusion and Dismay of the Household — Desolate condi- 
tion of the Queen. 

The year 1778 was an eventful one for Miss Bur- 
ney. " I began it," she writes, " as I ended the old 
one, by seizing the first moment it presented to my 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 137 

own disposal, for flying to Mrs. Delany, and begging 
her annual benediction. She bestowed it with the 
sweetest affection, and I spent, as usual, all the time 
with her which I had to spare." 

Four months afterwards Miss Burney had the mis- 
fortune t»lose this revered friend, w^hom she styles 
" the most perfect of women." Miss Burney stood be- 
side her couch a few moments before her death and heard 
the last words she uttered. She was resigned and 
cheerful to the last. She placed one hand in Miss 
Burney's and the other in that of her niece, after she 
could no longer see them, and in a holy voice blessed 
them both. They kissed her, and she smiled and said, 
" JYoio 1 will go to sleep.'^ These were her last w^ords. 

Shortly before her death, she cold one of her friends 
that it was the presence, care, and affection of Miss 
Burney that had soothed her latter days. 

Miss Burney looked upon her death as one of the 
most grievous afflictions with which she had ever been 

visited. She thus mentions Miss P the niece of 

her old friend, whose sorrow w^as even greater than her 
own. — " Poor, sweet, unfortunate girl ! What deluges 
of tears did she shed over me ! I promised her in that 
solemn moment my eternal regard, and she accepted 
this, my first protestation of any kind made to her, as 
some solace to her sufferings. Sacred shall I hold it! 
— sacred to my last hour. I believe, indeed, that an- 
gelic being had no other wish equally fervent." 
****** 

" I saw my poor lovely Miss P twice in every 

day, when in town, till after the last holy rites had 
been performed. I had no peace away from her. I 
thought myself fulfilling a wish of that sweet departed 
saint, in consigning all the time I had at my own dis- 
posal to solacing and advising with her beloved niece, 
who received this little offering with a sweetness that 
once again entwined her around my heart." 



IM Memoirs of 

Shortly before Mrs. Del any 's death, Miss Burney 
was informed that Mrs. Piozzi was publishing a memoir 
of Dr. Johnson, containing his letters to herself. In 
these letters Miss Barney was well aware that her own 
name was frequently mentioned, and this new publici- 
ty gave her great uneasiness. As soon as the work ap- 
peared, it was read by her Majesty, and lent to Miss 
Burney, whose fears were quieted as soon as she found 
that her name was not mentioned in an unpleasant 
manner. Daring the spring of this year, all London 
was thrown into a state of excitement by the trial of 
Hastings. Miss Burney regularly attended court da- 
ring the trial, but not merely from her interest in the 
prisoner, or to hear the eloquent speeches of Pitt and 
Fox, but because the Queen preferred her accounts of 
the trial to those of any other person. 

In the month of September and October, the King's 
health gradually declined, and the Royal family and 
court were alternately alarmed and rejoiced by ac- 
counts of his Majesty's illnesss and convalescence* 
In November, the dreadful nature of his illness became 
apparent. Miss Burney's journal becomes more thrill- 
ingly interesting at this time than during any previ- 
ous period. From the extracts which we give, the 
reader can form a more correct idea of her excellence, 
loveliness, and strength of character, as well as her de- 
votion to the Royal family, than by any other descrip- 
tion however faithful and graphic. 

" Wednesday, November 5th. dreadful day ! 
My very heart has so sickened in looking over my 
memorandums, that I was forced to go to other em- 
ployments. . I will not however omit its narration. 
— It is too interesting ever to escape my memory, and 
my dear friends have never yet had the beginning of 
the thread which led to all the terrible scenes of which 
they have variously heard. 

" I found my poar royal mistress in the morning sad 



Madame d^arblay. 139 

and sadder still ; something horrible seemed impend- 
ing, and I saw her whole resource was in religion. 
We had talked lately much upon solemn subjects, and 
she appeared already preparing herself to be resigned 
to whatever might happen. 

" I was still wholly unsuspicious of ihe greatness of 
the cause she had for dread. Illness, a breaking up 
of the constitution, the payment of sudden infirmity and 
premature old age, for the waste of unguarded health 
and strength — these seemed to me the threats await- 
ing her ; and great and grievous enough, yet how short 
of the fact. 

" I had given up my walks some days ; I was too 
uneasy to quit the house while the Queen remained at 
home, and she now never left it. 

" At noon the King went in his chaise with the 
Princess Royal for an airing. I looked from my win- 
dow to see him ; he was all smihng benignity ; but 
gave so many orders to the postillions, and got in and 
out of the carriage twice with such agitation, that 
again my fear of a great fever hanging over him grew 
more and more powerful. Alas ! how little did I ima- 
gine I should see him no more, for so long — so black 
a period! 

" When 1 w^ent to my Queen, still worse and worse 
I found her spirits. 

" The Princess Royal soon returned. She came in 
cheerfully, and gave in German a history of the air- 
ing, and one that seemed comforting. 

" Soon after, suddenly arrived the Prince of Wales. 
He came into the room. He had just quitted Bright- 
helmstone 1 Something passing within seemed to ren- 
der this meeting awfully distant on both sides. She 
asked if he should not return to Brighthelmstone ? He 
answered yes, the next day. He desired to speak 
with her, they retired together. * * # 



140 MEMoms OP 

" Meanwhile, a stillness the most uncommon reigned 
over the whole house. Nobody stirred ; not a voice 
^'as heard ; not a step, not a motion. I could do no- 
thing but watch, without knowing for what : there 
seemed a strangeness in the house most extraordinary. 

" At seven o'clock Columb came to tell me that 
the music was all forbid, and the musicians ordered 
away! 

" This was the last step to be expected, so f^md as 
his Majesty is of his conceit, and I thought it might 
have rather soothed him : I could not understand the 
prohibition ; all seemed stranger and stranger. 

"At eight o'clock, Madame la Fite came. She 
had just left the Princess Elizabeth, and left her very 
miserable, but knew not why. The Queen, too, she 
said, was ill. She was herself in the dark, or thought 
it necessary to seem so. 

" Very late came General Bude. He looked ex- 
tremely uncomfortable. I could have made enquiries 
of him with ease, as to the order about the court ; but 
he loves not to open before poor Madame la Fite. 

" Later still came Colonel Goldsworthy. Last of 
all Mr. Fairly. Various small speeches now dropped, 
by which I found the house was all in disturbance, 
and the Kino- in some strange way worse, and the 
Queen taken ill ! 

" At length General Bude said he would go and 
see if any one was in the music room. Mr. Fairly 
said he thought he had better not accompany him, for 
as he had not yet been seen, his appearance might 
excite fresh emotion. The General agreed and went. 

" We were now alone. But I could not speak : 
neither did Mr. Fairly ; I worked — I had begun a 
hassock for my Fr xly. A long and serious pause 
made me almost turn sick with anxious wonder and 
fear ; an inward trembling totally disabled me from 
asking the actual situation of things j if I had not had 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 141 

my work, to employ my eyes and hands, I must have 
left the room to quiet myself. 

" I fancy he penetrated into all this, though at first, 
he had concluded me informed of everything; but he 
now, finding me silent, began an inquiry whether I 
was yet acquainted how bad all was become, and 
how ill the King 1 

" I really had no utterance for very alarm, but my 
look was probably sufficient : he kindly saved me any 
questions, and related to me the whole of the mysteri- 
ous horror ! 

" my dear friends, what a history ! The King 
at dinner had broken forth with positive delirium, 
vvhich long had been menacing all who saw him 
most closely ; and the Queen w^as so overpowered as 
to fall into violent hysterics. All the Princesses were 
in misery, and the Prince of Wales had burst into 
tears. No one knew what was to follow — no" one 
could conjecture the event. 

" He spoke of the poor Queen in terms of the most 
tender compassion ; he pitied her, he said, from the 
bottom of his soul ; and all her sweet daughters — the 
lovely Princesses — there was no knowing to what we 
might look forward for them all ! 

" I was an almost silent listener ; but having ex- 
pressed himself very warmly for all the principal suf- 
ferers, he kindly and with interest examined me. 
^How,' he cried, ' are you?' Are you strong ? Are 
you stout? Can you go through such scenes as 
these ? you do not look much fitted for them V 

" * I shall do very well ;' I replied, ' for, at such a 
time as this I shall surely forget myself utterly. The 
Queen will be all to me, I shall hardly, 1 think, feel 
myself at liberty to be unhappy.' 

" He stayed with me all the evening, during which 
we heard no voice, no sound ! all was deadly still. 
At ten o'clock I said, ' I must go to my own room to 
be in waiting ? 



142 MEMOIRS OF 

" If this beginning of the night was affecting, what 
did it not grow afterwards ! Two long hours I wait- 
ed alone — in silence — in ignorance — in dread ! 

" I thought they would never be over ; at twelve 
o'clock I seemed to have spent two whole days in 
waiting. I then opened my door to listen in the pas- 
sage, if anything seemed stirring. Not a sound could 
I hear. My apartment seemed wholly separated 
from life and motion. Whoever was in the house 
kept at the other end, and not even a servant crossed 
the stairs or passage by my rooms. 

" I would fain have crept on myself, anywhere in 
the world, for some inquiry ; or to see but a face, or 
hear a voice, but did not dare risk losing a sudden 
summons. 

*' I re-entered my room and there passed another 
endless hour in conjectures too horrible to relate, 

" A little after on.^, I heard a step — my door open- 
ed, and a page said i must come to the Queen. 

" I could hardly get along— hardly force myself 
into the room ; dizzy I felt, almost to falling. But, 
the first shock passed, I became more collected. 
Useful, indeed, proved the previous lesson of the 
evening; it had stilled if not fortified my mind,' 
which had else, in a scene like this, been all tumult 
and emotion. 

" My poor Royal Mistress ! never can I forget her 
countenance — pale, ghastly pale she looked ; she 
was seated to be undressed, and attended by Lady 
Elizabeth Waldegrave and Miss Goldworthy; her 
whole ' rame was disordered, yet she was still and 
quiet. 

" These two ladies assisted me to undress her, or 
rather I assisted *hem, for they were firmer, from 
being longer pre.' ! • ; my shaking hands and blinded 
eyes could scarce be of any use. 

" I gave her some camphor julep, which had been 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 143 

ordered her by Sir George Baker. ^How cold I 
am !' she cried, and put her hand on mine — marble it 
felt ! and went to my heart's core ! 

" The Kin|2^, at the instance of Sir George Baker, 
had consented to sleep in the next apartment, as the 
Queen was ill. For himself, he would listen to 
nothing. Accordingly a bed was put up for him, 
by his own order, in the Queen's second dressing 
room, immediately adjoining to the bed-room. He 
would not be further removed. Miss Goldsworthy 
was to sit up with her by the King's direction. 

" I would fain have remained in the little dressing 
room, on the other s'de of the bed-room, but she 
would not permit it. She ordeied Sandys, her ward- 
robe-woman, in the place of Mrs. Thlelky, to sit up 
there." 



END OF VOL. I. 






MEMOIRS 



MADAME D'ARBLAY, 

AUTHOR OF " EVELINA," " CECILIA," ETC. 

COMPILED FROM 

HER VOLUMINOUS DIARIES AND LETTERS, 

AND FROM OTHER SOURCES., 

* 

BY MRS. HELEN BERKELEY, 

AUTHOR OF " THE FORTUNE HUNTER," ETC. 

VOL. 11. 



JAMES MOWATT & CO. 174 BROADWAY, 

CORNER OF MAIDEN LANE. 
SOLD BY ALL PERIODICAL AGENTS AND BOOKSELLEES. 

1844. 



[Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S44, by 
James Mowatt & Co., in the Clerk's oflice of the District Court of 
the Southern District of the state of New- York ] 



Douglas, Typographer, 34 Ann St. 

HoBBs, Stereotyper, 111 Fulton St. 

Bedford, Printer, 138 Fulton St. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter I. 



Conduct of the Queen — Scene with the King in the Queen's Apart- 
ment — Piety of the Queen — Dr. Warren sent for — Arrival of the 
Prince of Wales — New mode of life at Windsor, conseciueut on 
the King's illness — A melancholy Birthday — The Prince assumes 
the government of the Palace. 9 — 20 



Chapter II. 

Sir Lucas Pepys — Excitement of the People during the King's Ill- 
ness — Threatning Letters to the Physicians — Sir George Baker 
stopped by the Mob — The King's di-ead of beiag removed to Kew 
— The Physicians before the Privy Council — The Queen's de- 
parture for Kew — Dreadlul Suspense — Removal of the King to 
Kew — His Conduct — Prospect of a Regency — The New Year — A 
Gleam of Hope — A Singular Present sent to Miss Burney from 
Germany — Extraordinary scene between the King and Miss Bur- 
ney in Kew Gardens — Miss Burney relates her adventure to the 
Queen — Court Curiosity — Improvement of the King. 21 — 35 



Chapter III. 

Recovery of the King — The Queen's " Prayer of Thanksgiving " — 
Demonstrations of Joy on the King's Recovery — Poem presented 
by the Princess Amelia — Miss Burney's interview with Mrs. Pi- 
ozzi — Miss Burney's Tragedy — Mr, Boswell's solicitation — Grave 
Sam and Gay Sam— Decline of Miss Burney's health— She purpo- 
ses to resign her situation — The Memorial— The King's grief at 
Miss Burney's determination— The Queen delays Miss Burney's 
departure — Mademoiselle Jacob! — Munificence of the Queen — 
Atfecting partmg with the Royal Family. 35 — 40 



Chapter IV. 

Miss Burney's retmn home — Congratulations — Travelling — Health 
partially restored— New mode of Life— The Library— A third 
Tragedy commenced — Interview with Sir Joshua Reynolds — His 
Loss of Sight — Miss Burney's meeting with Mrs. Garrick — A sum- 
mons from the Queen — The Royal Family — Miss Biirney becomes 
a temporary attendant upon her Majesty — Disappointment — A 
second visit to the Queen— Flattering reception. 41—51 



Vi CONTENTS. 

Chapter V. 

Madame de Genlis's strange establishment at Bury — Pamela- 
Birthday of the King — Miss Burney again pays her devoirs to the 
Royal Family— The Queen's Graciousness-Recall of the Eaglish 
Ambassador from France— Arrival of French Emigrant Noblesse 
—The Reign of Terror— A meeting with old friends— Early Inci- 
dent of the French Revolution— Anecdotes of the Due de Lian- 
court — His perils and Escape from France— The Due de la 
Rochefoucault. 51—73 



CHAPtER VI. 

Mrs. Phillips to Miss Burney, describing the French Colony at 
Mickleham — The Chevalier d'Arblay — His anecdotes of Lafay- 
ette — Madame de Stael — Her conduct during the Reign of Terror 
— A Romance of Real Life — Treatment of Lafayette in Prison 
— Movement of the Emigrants — M. Talleyrand — Progress of the 
Revolution — M. de la Chatre — His adventures and escapes. 73-94 



Chapter VII. 

Miss Burne;7's opinion of M. d'Arblay- s spciech—- Execution of the 
French King^Despair of M. de N;^rbonne and M. d'Arblay — 
Saint-like end of Louis— Madame de Stael at Mickleham— the 
last moments of the French King — His last words on the Scaffold 
— Three English letters from Madame de Stael to Miss Burney — 
Account of Madame de Stael — Her escape from Massacre — Con- 
versation of Talleyrand. 94 — 107 



Chaptjer VIII 

Miss Bumey's account of the Emigrants written to her Father — 
Her mention of M. d'Arblay — French letLer from Madame de 
Stael to Miss Burney — Juniper — M. de Lally and his tragedy 
—Talleyrand— Gloominess of M. d'Arblay— The society at Ju- 
niper Hall> 107—119 



Chapter IX. 

Offer of marriage from General d'Arblay to Miss Burney— Miss 
Burney retires to Chesington to reflect upon the course she should 
take— Madame de Staef's work on " The Influence of the Pase 
sioas" — Madame de Stael's parting with Mrs^ Lock— A slight mis* 



CONTENTS. VII 

tlnderstandinr — Miss Burney's letter to Mrs. Phillips concerning 
M. d'Arblay and his offer — Dr. Burney to Miss Burney — Dr. Bur- 
ney, after m..ay objections, consents to Miss Burney's union with 
M. d'Arblay. — Miss Burney's memorandum of her imion — Cor- 
respond ;nce— Character of M. d' Arblay. ] 1 9—137 



Chapter X. 

Madame d'Arblay's residence at Bookham — Domestic felicity — 
Birth of a Son — The French Clergy — Madame d'Arblay's Ad- 
dress — Tragedy of ''Edwy and EJgiva" — Publication of'Camil. 
la"—' The Camilla Cottage"— '' The Breakfast TabJe"— Death 
of Mrs. Burney — Sudden death of Mrs. Phillips — Madame d'Ar- 
blay's yearly commemoration of the day of hor sister's Death — 
General d'Arblay's proposed departure for St, Domingo — His in- 
discreet letter to Napoleon — Commission annulled — Madair.e d'- 
Arblay joins her husband in France — War — Return to England af- 
ter ten years' absence — Death of Dr. Burney — Publication of " The 
Wanderer" — Death of General d'Arblay — ]N>adame d'Ai-blay's in- 
terview with Sir Walter Scott — Anecdote — Death of Madame d'- 
Arblay's only son— Death of Madame d'Arblay in her 88th year, 

.137—144 



MEMOIRS OF MADAME D^ARBLAY. 



CHAPTER I. 



Conduct of the Queen — Scene with the King in the Queen's Apart- 
ment — Piety of the Queen — Dr. Warren sent for — Arrival of the 
Prince of VVales — New mode of life at Windsor, consequent on 
the King's illness— A melancholy Birthday— The Prince'assumes 
the government of the Palace. 

" Thursday, Nov. 6th. — I rose at six, dressed in haste 
by candle-light, and unable to wait for my summons 
in a suspense so awful, I stole along the passage in 
the dark, a thick fog intercepting all faint light, to 
see if I could meet with Sandys, or any one, to tell me 
how the night had passed. 

" When I came to the little dressing-room, I stop- 
ped, irresolute what to do. 

" I heard men's voices : I was seized with the most 
cruel alaim at such a sound in her Majesty's dressing- 
room. I waited some time, and then the door open- 
ed, and I saw Colonel Goldsworthy and Mr. Batters- 
comb. I was relieved from my first apprehension, 
yet shocked enough to see them there at this early 
hour. They had bo^^^h sat up there all night, as v/ell 
as Sandys. Every page, both of the King and Queen^ 
had also sat up, dispersed in the passages and ante- 
rooms 1 and what horror in every face I met 1 



10 MEMOIRS OP 

" I waited here amongst them till Sandys was or- 
dered by the Queen to carry her a pair of gloves. I 
could not resist the opportunity to venture myself 
before her. I glided into the room, but stopped at 
the door : she was in bed, sitting up ; Miss Golds- 
worthy was on a stool by her side ! 

"I feared approaching without permission, yet 
could not prevail with myself to retreat. She was 
looking down, and did not see me. Miss Goldswor- 
thy, turning round, said, ' 'Tis Miss Burney, ma'am.' 

" She leaned her head forward, and in a most soft 
manner, said, ' Miss Burney, how are you V 

" Deeply affected, I hastened up to her, but, in try- 
ing to speak, burst into an irresistible torrent of tears. 

" My dearest friends, I do it at this moment again, 
and can hardly write for them : yet I wish you all to 
know this piercing history right. 

" She looked like death — colourless and wan ; but 
nature is infectious ; the tears gushed from her own 
eyes, and a perfect agony of weeping ensued, which, 
once begun, she could not stop ; she did not, indeed, 
try ; for when it subsided, and she wiped her eyes, 
she said, ' I thank you. Miss Burney — you have made 
me cry — it is a great relief to me — I had not been able 
to cry before, all this night long.' 

" O what a scene followed ! what a scene was 
related ! The King, in the middle of the night, had 
insisted upon seeing if his Queen was not removed 
from the house ; and he had come into her room, with 
a candle in his hand, opened the bed-curtains, and 
satisfied himself she was there, and Miss Goldsworthy 
by her side. This observance of his directions had 
much soothed him ; but he stayed a full half hour, 
and the depth of terror during that time no words can 
paint. The fear of such another entrance was now so 
strongly upon the nerves of the poor Queen, that she 
could hardly support herself. 



MADAME D'ARBLAY. 11 

" The King — the Royal sufferer — was still in the 
next room, attended by Sir George Baker and Dr. 
Heberden, and his pages, with Colonel Goldsworthy 
occasionally, and as he called for him. He kept talk- 
ing unceasingly ; his voice was so lost in hoarseness 
and weakness, it was rendered almost inarticulate ; 
but its tone was still all benevolence — all kindness — 
all touching graciousness. 

" It was thought advisable the Queen should not 
rise, lest the King should be offended that she did not 
go to him ; at present he was content, because he 
conceived her to be nursing for her illness. 

" But what a situation for her ! She would not let 
me leave her now ; she made me remain in the room, 
and ordered me to sit down. I was too trembling to 
refuse. Lady Elizabeth soon joined us. We all 
three stayed with her ; she frequently bade me listen, 
to hear what the King was saying or doing. I did, 
and carried the best accounts I could manage, without 
deviating from truth, except by some omissions. No- 
thing could be so afflicting as this task'; even now, 
it brings fresh to my ear his poor exhausted voice. 
' I am nervous/ he cried ; * I am not ill, but I am ner- 
vous : if you would know what is the matter with 
me, I am nervous. But I love you both very well, if 
you would telJ me truth : I love Dr. Heberden best, 
for he has not told me a lie : Sir George has told me 
a lie — a white lie, he says, but I hate a white lie ! It 
you w^ill tell me a lie, let it be a black lie ! ' 

" This was what he kept saying almost constantly, 
mixed in with other matter, but always returning, and 
in a voice that truly will never cease vibrating in my 
recollection. 

" The Queen permitted me to make her breakfast, 
and attend her, and was so affectingly kind and gentle 
in her distress, that I felt a tenderness of sorrow for 
her that almost devoted my whole mind to her alone ! 



12 Memoirs of 

" Miss Goldsworthy was a fixture at her side ; I 
therefore provided her breakfast also. 

" Lady Elizabeth was sent out on inquiries of Colo- 
nel Goldsworthy, and Mr. Batterscomb, and the pa- 
ges, every ten minutes : while I, at the same intervals, 
was ordered to listen to what passed in the room, and 
give warning if anything seemed to threaten another 
entrance. 

" The behaviour of Lady Elizabeth was a pattern 
of propriety for her situation. She was quiet, gentle, 
serene, full of respect and attention, and kind concern. 

" She got some breakfast, standing, in the httle 
dressing-room, while waitinrv- for an answer to one of 
her messages ; she wished me to do the same, but I 
could not eat. She afterwards told the Queen I bad 
had nothing, and I was then ordered to go and make 
reparation in my room. 

" The Queen bid me bring the Prayer Book and 
read the morning service to her. I could hardly do it, 
the poor voice from the next room was so perpetually 
in my ears. • 

" You may suppose a thousand things to be said 
and to pass that I never could write ; all I have put 

down was known to other witnesses." 

******** 

" Dr. Warren had been sent for express, in the mid- 
dle of the night, at the desire of Sir George Baker, 
because he had been taken ill himself, and fell imequal 
to the whole toil. 

" I returned speedily to the room of wo. The arri- 
val of the physicians was there grievously awaited, 
for Dr. Heberden and Sir George would now decide 
upon nothing till Dr. Warren came. The poor Queen 
wanted something very positive to pass, relative to her 
keeping away, which seemed thought essential at this 
time, though the courage to assert it was wanting in 
every body. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 13 

" The Princesses sent to ask leave to come to their 
mother. She burst into tears, and declared she could 
neither see them, nor pray, while in this dreadful situ- 
ation, expecting every moment to be broken in upon, 
yet quite uncertain in what manner, yet determined 
not to desert her apartment, except by express direc- 
tion from the physicians. Who could tell to w^hat 
height the delirium might rise 1 There was no con- 
straint, no power: all feared the worst, yet none da- 
red take any measures for security. 

" The Princes also sent word they were at her Ma- 
jesty's command, but she shrunk still more from this 
interview : it filled her with a thousand dreadful sen- 
sations, too obvious to be wholly hid. 

" At length news was brought that Dr. Warren was 
arrived. I never felt so rejoiced ; I could have run 
out to welcome him wath rapture. 

" With what cruel impatience did we then wait to 
hear his sentence ! An impatience how fruitless ! It 
ended in information that he had not seen the King, 
who refused him admittance. 

" This was terrible. But the King was never so 
despotic ; no one dared oppose him. He would not 
listen to a word, though, when unopposed, he was 
still all gentleness and benignity to every one around 
liim. 

" Dr. Warren was then planted where he could 
hear his voice, and all that passed, and receive intelli- 
gence concerning his pulse, Sac, from Sir George 
Baker. 

" We now expected every moment Dr. Warren 
would bring her Majesty his opinion ; but he neither 
came nor sent. She waited in dread incessant. She 
sent for Sir George — he would not speak alone : she 
sent for Mr. Hawkins, the household surgeon ; but all 
referred to Dr. Warren. 

" Lady Elizabeth and Miss Goldsworthy earnestly 

2 



14 MEMOIRS OF 

pressed her to remove to a more distant apartment, 
where she might not hear the unceasing voice of the 
unhappy King ; but she would only rise and go to 
the httle dressing-room, there to wait in her night- 
clothes Dr. Warren's determination what steps she 
should take. 

" At length Lady Elizabeth learnt among the pa- 
ges that Dr. Warren had quitted his post of watching. 

" The poor Queen now, in a torrent of tears, pre- 
pared herself for seeing him. 

" He came not. 

" All astonished, and impatient, Lady Elizabeth 
was sent out on inquiries. 

" She returned, and said Dr. Warren was gone. 

" * Run ! stop him ! ' was the Queen's next order. 
* Let him but let me know what I am to do.' 

" Poor, poor Queen ! how I wept to hear those 
words ! 

"Abashed and distressed, poor Lady Elizabeth 
returned. She had seen Colonel Goldsworlhy, and 
heard Dr. Warren, with the other two physicians, had 
left the house too far to be recalled ; they were gone 
over to the Castle, to the Prince of Wales. 

*' I think a deeper blow I have never witnessed. 
Already to become but second, even for the King 1 
The tears were now wiped ; indignation arose, with 
pain, the severest pain, of every species. 

" In about a quarter of an hour, Colonel Goldswor- 
lhy sent in to beg an audience. It was granted, a 
long cloak only being thrown over the Queen. 

"He now brought the opinion of all the physi- 
cians in consultation, ' That her Majesty would re- 
move to a more distant apartment, since the King 
would undoubtedly be worse from the agitation of 
seeing her, and there could be no possibility to pre- 
vent it while she remained so near.' 

" She instantly agreed, but with what bitter an- 



MADAME DA RELAY. - i5 

giiish ! Lady Elizabeth, Miss Goldsworthy, and myself 
attended her ; she went to an apartment in the same 
row, but to which there was no entrance except by its 
own door. It consisted of only two rooms, a bed- 
chamber and a, dressing-room. They are appropria- 
ted to the lady-in-waitiiig, when she is there. 

" At the entrance into this new habitation, the poor 
wretched Queen once more gave w^ay to a perfect 
agony of grief and affliction ; while the words, ' What 
will become of me ! What will become of me ! ' ut- 
tered with the most piercing lamentation, struck deep 
and hard into all our hearts. Never can I forget their 
desponding sound ; they implied such complicated 
apprehensions. 

" Instantly now the Princesses were sent for. The 
three elder hastened down. 0, what a meeting ! 
They all, from a habit that has become a second 
nature, struggled to repress all outward grief, though 
the Queen herself, wholly overcome, wept even aloud- 

" They all went into the bed-room, and the Queen 
made a slight dressing, but only wore a close gauze 
cap, and her long dressing-gown, which is a dimity 
chemise. 

" I was then sent back to the little dressing-room, 
for something that was left ; as I opened the door, I 
almost ran against a gentleman close to it in the pas- 
sage. 

" ' Is the Queen here V he cried, and I then saw 
the Prince of Wales. 

" * Yes,' I answered, shuddering at this new scene 
for her ; ' should I tell her Majesty your Royal High- 
ness is here V 

" This I said lest he should surprise her. But he 
did not intend that : he was profoundly respectful, 
and consented to wait at the door while I went in, 
but called me back as I turned away, to say, * You 
will be so good to say I am come by her orders,' 



16 MEMOIRS OF 

" She wept a deluge of tears when I delivered my 
commission, but i-.-^antly admitted him. 

" I then retreaioa. The two other ladies went to 
Lady Elizabeth's room, which is next the Queen's 
new apartments." 

" The Prince of Wales and Duke of York stayed 
here all the day, and were so often in and out of the 
Queen's rooms that no one could enter them but by 
order. The same etiquette is observed when the Prin- 
ces are with the Queen as when the King is there — 
no interruption whatever is made. I now, therefore, 
jost my only consolation at this calamitous time, that 
of attending my poor Royal Mistress. 

" Alone wholly, without seeing a human being, or 
gathering any the smallest intelligence of what was 
going forward, I remained till tea-time. 

" Impatient then for information, I planted myself 
in the eating^parlour ; but no one came. Every mi- 
nute seemed an hour. I grew as anxious for the tea- 
society as heretofore I had been anxious to escape it; 
but so late it came, and so hopeless, that Columb came 
to propose bringing the water. 

*• No ; for I could swallow nothing voluntarily. 

" In a few minutes he came again, and with the 
compliments of Mr. Fairly, who desired him to tell me 
he would wait upon me to tea whenever I pleased. 

" A little surprised at this single message, but most 
truly rejoiced, I returned my compliments, with an 
assurance that all time was the same to me. 

" He came directly, and indeed his very sight, at 
this season of still horror and silent suspense, was a 
repose to my poor aching eyes. 

" ' You will see,' he said, * nobody else. The phy- 
sicians being now here, Colonel Goldsworthy thought 
it right to order tea for the whole party in the music- 
room, which we have now agreed to make the general 



MADAME d'arSLAY. j^ 

^^altlng-rOom for us all. It is near the King, and we 
always ought to be at hand.' 

" Our tea was very sad. He gave me no hope of 
a short seizure ; he saw it, in perspective, as long as 
it was dreadful : perhaps even worse than long, he 
thought it — but that he said not. He related to me 
the whole of the day's transactions, but my most dear 
and most honourable friends will be the first to forgive 
me when I promise that I shall commit nothing to pa- 
per on this terrible event that is told me in confidence. 

" He did net stay long ; he did not thing it right to 
leave his waiting friends for any time, nor could I 
wish it, valued as I know he is by them all, and much 
tiiey need his able counsel. 

" He left me plunged in a deep gloom, yet he was 
not gloomy himself; he sees evils as things of course, 
and bears them, therefore, as things expected. But 
he was tenderly touched for the poor Queen and the 
young Princesses. 

" Not till one in the morning did I see another 
face, and then I attended my poor unhappy Queen. 
She was now fixed in her new apartments, bed-room 
and dressing-room, and stirred not a step but from one 

to the other." 

# ^ ^ # # ^ ^ 

" FRroAY, November 7th.' — I was now arrived at a 
settled regularity of life, more melancholy than can 
possibly be described. I rose at six, dressed, and has- 
tened to the Queen's apartments, uncalled, and there 
waited in silence in the dark till I heard her move or 
speak with Miss Goldsworthy, and then presented 
myself to the sad bed-side of the unhappy Queen. 
She sent Miss Goldsworthy early every morning to 
make inquiry what sort of a night his Majesty had 
passed ; and in the middle of the night she commonly 
also sent for news by the wardrobe-woman, or Miss 
Macenton, whichever sat up. 
2 b* 



18 Memoirs of 

" She dismissed Miss Goldsworthy, on my arrival 
to dress herself. Ltsdy Elizabeth Waldegrave accom- 
modated her with her own room for that purpose. 

" I had then a long conference with this most pa- 
tient sufferer ; and equal forbearance and quietnes* 
during a period of suspensive unhappiness never have 
I seen-^never could I have imagined. 

" At noon I never saw her, which I greatly regret- 
ted j but she kept on her dressing-gown all day, and 
the Princes were continually about the passages, sc 
that no one unsummoned dared approach the Queen's 
apartments. 

" It was only therefore at night and morning 1 
could see her ; but my heart was with her the live* 
long day. And how long, good Heaven ! how long 
that day became! Endless, I used to think it, foi 
nothing could I do— to wait and to watch — starting 
at every sound, yf;t revived by every noise. 

" While I was yef with my poor Royal sufferer this 
morning, the Prince of Wales came hastily into the 
room. He apologized for his intrusion, and then gave 
a very energetic history of ihe preceding night. It 
had been indeed most rffectingly dreadful ! The King 
had risen in the middle of the night, and would take 
no denial to walking into the next room. There he 
saw the large congress I have mentioned: amazed 
and in consternation, he demanded what they did 
there 1 Much followed that I have heard since, par- 
ticularly the eloge on his dear son Frederick, his fii* 
veurite, his friend. ' Yes,' he cried, * Frederick is my 
friend ! ' — -and this son was then present among tlie 
rest, but not seen ! 

" Sir George Baker was there, and was privately 
exhorted by the gentlemen to lead the King back to 
his room ; but he had not courage : he attempted only 
to speak, and the King penned him in a corner, told 
him he was a mere old woman — that he wondered be 



19 

liad ever followed his advice, for he knew nothing of 
his complaint, which was only nervous ! 

" The Prince of Wales, by signs and whispers, 
would have urged others to have drawn him away, 
but no one dared approach him, and he remained there 
a considerable time : ' Nor do I know when h'^ would 
have got back,' continued the Prince, * if, at last, Mr. 
Fairly had not undertaken him. I am extremely 
obliged to Mr. Fairly, indeed. He came boldly up to 
him, and took him by the arm, and begged him to go 
to bed, and then drew him along, and said he must 
go. Then he said he would not, and cried, ^ Who 
are you V ' I am Mr. Fairly, sir,' he answered, * and 
your Majesty has been very good to me often, and 
now I am going to be very good to you, for you must 
come to bed, sir : it is necessary to your life.' And 
then he was so surprised, that he let himself be drawn 
along, just like a child ; and so they got him to bedt 
I believe else he would have stayed all night ! ' 

" Mr. Fairly has had some melancholy experience 
in a case of this sort, with a very near connexion of 

his own. How fortunate he was present ! '^ 

******** 

" Saturday, November 8th. — This was, if possible, 
the sr ddest day yet passed : it was the birthday of 
Princess Augusta, and Mrs. Siddons had been invited 
to read a play, and a large company to form the au- 
dience. What a contrast from such an intention was 
the event ! 

" W^hen I went, before seven o'clock in the morn- 
ing, to my most unhappy Royal Mistress, the Princes 
were both in the room. I retreated to the next apart* 
ment till they had finished their conference. The 
Prince of Wales upon these occasions has always 
been extremely well-bred and condescending in his 
manner, which, in a situation such as mine, is no 
immaterial circumstance. 



so MEMOIES OF 

" The poor Queen then spoke to me of the birthday 
present she had designed for her most amiable daiie^h- 
ter. She hesitated whether or not to produce it, but 
at length meekly said, * Yes, go to Miss Planta and 
bring it. Do you think there can be any harm in 
giving it now V 

" ' 0, no ! ' I said, happy to encourage whatever 
w^as a little less gloomy, and upstairs I flew. I was 
met by all the poor Princes, and the Duke of York, 
who inquired if he might go again to the Queen. I 
begged leave first to execute my commission. I did ; 
but so engrossed was my mind with the whole of 
this living tragedy, that I so little noticed what I car- 
ried as to be now unable to recollect it. I gave it, 
however, to the Queen, who then sent for the Prin- 
cesses, and carried her gift to her daughter, weeping, 
who received it with a silent courtesy, kissing and 
wetting with her gentle tears the hand of her afflicted 
mother." 

" From this time, as the King grew worse, general 
hope seemed universally to abate ; and the Prince of 
Wales now took the government of the house into his 
own hands. Nothing was done but by his orders, and 
he was applied to in every difficulty. The Queen 
interfered not in any thing ; she lived entirely in her 
two new rooms, and spent the day in patient sorrov/ 
and retirement with her daun^hters." 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 21 



CHAPTER 11. 

Sir Lucas Pepys — Excitement of the People during the King's Ill- 
ness — Threatning Letters to the Physicians— Sir George Baker 
stopped by the Mob— The King's di-ead of being removed to Kew 
— The Physicians before the Privy Council — The Queen's de- 
parture for Kew — Dreadful Suspense — Removal of the King to 
Kew — His Conduct — Prospect of a Regency — The New Year — A 
Gleam of Hope — A Singular Present sent to Miss Burney from 
Germany — Extraordinary scene between the King and Miss Bur- 
ney in Kew Gardens — Miss Burney relates her adventure to the 
Queen — Court Curiosity — Improvement of the King. 

" Friday 28th. — How woful — how bitter a day, 
in every part was this ! 

" My early account was from the King's page, Mr. 
Stillingfleet, and the night had been extremely bad. 

" I dared not sink the truth to my poor Queen, 
though I mixed in it whatever I could devise of cheer 
and hope ; and she bore it with the most wonderful 
calmness, and kept me with her a full half hour after 
breakfast was called, talking over ' Hunter's Lec- 
tures/ and other religious books, with some other 
more confidential matters. 

" Dr. Addington was now called in : a very old 
physician, but peculiarly experienced in disorders 
such as afflicted our poor King, though not professedly 
a practitioner in them. 

" Sir Lucas made me a visit, and informed me of 
all the medical proceedings ; and told me, in confi- 
dence, we were to go to Kew to-morrow, though the 
Queen herself has not yet concurred in the measure ; 
but the physicians joined to desire it, and they were 
supported by the Princes. The difficulty how to get 
the King away from his favourite abode was all that 
rested. If they even attempted force they had not a 
doubt but his smallest resistance would call up the 
whole country to his fancied rescue ! Yet how, at 
such a time, prevail by persuasion? 



22 MEMOIRS OF 

" He moved me even to tears, by telling me that 
none of their own lives would be safe if the King 
did not recover, so prodigiously high ran the tide of 
affection and loyalty. All the physicians received 
threatning letters daily, to answer for the safety of 
their monarch with their lives ! Sir George Baker 
had already been stopped in his carriage by the mob, 
to give an accoont of the King ; and when he said it 
was a bad one, they had furiously exclaimed ' The 
more shame for you I' 

*^ After he left me, a privy council was held at the 
Castle, with the Prince of Wales; the Chancellor, 
Mr. Pitt, and all the officers of state were summoned, 
to sign a permission for the King's removal. The 
poor Queen gave an audience to the Chancellor — it 
was necessary to sanctify their proceedings. The 
Princess Royal and Lady Courtoun attended her. It 
was a tragedy the most dismal ! 

" The Queen's knowledge of the King's aversion 
to Kew made her consent to this measure with the 
extremest reluctance ; yet it was not to be opposed : 
it was stated as much the best for him, on account of 
the garden : as here there is none but w^hat is public 
to spectators from the terrace or tops of houses. I 
believe they were perfectly right, thoue:h the removal 
was so tremendous. 

"The physicians were summoned to the Privy 
Council, to give their opinions, upon oath, that this 
step was necessary. 

" Inexpressible was the alarm of every one, lest the 
King, if he recovered, should bear a lasting resent- 
ment against the authors arid promoters of this jour- 
ney. To g:ive it, therefore, every possible sanction, 
it was decreed that he should be seen, both by the 
Chancellor and Mr. Pitt. 

" The Chancellor went into his presence with a 
tremor such as, before, he had been only accustomed 



23 

to . inspire ; and when he came out, he was so ex- 
tremely affected by the state in which he saw his 
Royal Master and Patron that the tears ran down his 

cheeks, and his feet had difficulty to support him." 

***** 

" Saturday Nov. 29th. — Shall I ever forget the 
varied emotions of this dreadful day ! 

"I rose with the heaviest of hearts, and found my 
poor Royal Mistress in the deepest dejection ; she 
told me now of our intended expedition to Kew. 
Lady Elizabeth hastened away to dress, and I was 
alone with her for some time. 

"Her mind, she said, quite misgave her about 
Kew : the King's dislike was terrible to think of, and 
she could not foresee in what it might end. She 
would have resisted the measure herself, but that she 
had determined not to have upon her own mind any 
opposition to the opinion of the physicians. 

" The account of the night was still more and 
more discouraging : it was related to me by one of 
the pages, Mr. Brawan ; and though a little I soften- 
ed or omitted particulars, I yet most sorrowfully con- 
veyed it to the Queen. 

" Terrible was the morning ! — uninterruptedly ter- 
rible ! all spent in hasty- packing up, preparing for 
we knew not what, nor for how long, nor v.^ith what 
circumstances, nor scarcely with what \iew ! We 
seemed preparing for captivity, without having com- 
mitted any offence ; and for banishment without the 
least conjecture when we might be recalled from it. 

" The poor Queen was to get off in private : the 
plan settled, between the Princes and physicians, was, 
that her Majesty and the Princesses should go away 
quietly, and then that the King should be told that 
they were gone, which was the sole method they 
could devise to prevail with him to follow. He was 
then to be allured by a promise of seeing them at 



24 MEMOIRS OF 

Kew ; and, as they knew he would doubt their asser- 
tion, he was to ^o through the rooms and examine 

the house himself." 

# # # # ^ 

" When we arrived at Kew, we found the suspense 
with which the King was awaited truly terrible. Her 
Majesty had determined to return to Windsor at 
night, if he came not. We were all to forbear un- 
packing in the meanwhile. 

" The house was all now regulated by express or- 
der of the Prince of Wales, who rode over first, and 
arranged all the apartments, and writ, with chalk, 

the names of the destined inhabitants on each door." 

* # * * * 

" Dinner went on, and still no King. We now 
began to grow very anxious, when Miss Planta ex- 
claimed that she thought she heard a carriage. We 
all listened. ' I hope !' I cried. ' I see you do ! ' 
cried he ; ' you have a very face of hope at this 
moment !' — and it was not disappointed. The sound 
came nearer, and presently a carriage drove into the 
front court. I could see nothing, it was so dark; 
but I presently heard the much-respected voice of 
the dear unhappy King, speaking rapidly to the por- 
ter, as he alighted from frhe coach. Mr. Fairly in- 
stantly flew up stairs, to acquaint the Queen with 
the welcome tidings. 

" The poor King had been prevailed upon to quit 
Windsor with the utmost difficulty : he was accom- 
panied by G^^neral Harcourt, his aide-de-camp, and 
Colonels Goldsworthy and Welbred — no one else ! 
He had piij^sed all the rest with apparent composure, 
to come to his carriage, for they lined the passage, 
eager to see him once more ! and almost all Wmiisor 
was collected round the rails, &c. to witness the 
mournful spectacle of his departure, which left them 
in the deepest despondence, with scarce a ray of 
hope ever to see him again. 



^6 

" The bribery, however, which brought, was denied 
him! — he was by no means to see the Queen ! 

" When I went to her at night she was all gra-» 
ciousness, and kept me till very late. I had not sqen 
her alone so long, except for a few minutes in the 
morning, that I had a thousand things I wished to 
say to her. You may be sure they were all, as far 
as they went, consolatory." 

tP tF •?? tP ^ 

" I could not sleep all night — 1 thought I heard the 
poor King. He was under the same range of apart- 
ments, though far distant, but his indignant disap* 
pointment haunted me. The Queen, too, was very 
angry at having promises made in her name which 
could not be kept. What a day altogether was this ! 

" Sunday, November 30th. — Here, in all its dread 
colours, dark as its darkest prognostics, began the 
Kew campaign. I went to my poor Queen at seven 
o'clock ; the Princess Augutta arose and went away 
to dress, and I received her Majesty's commands to 
go down for inquiries. She had herself passed a 
wretched night, and already lamented leaving Wind- 
sor. 

" J waited very long in the cold dark passages be- 
low, before I could find any one of whom to ask in- 
telligencci The parlours were without fires, and 
washing. I gave directions afterwards to have a fire 
in one of them by seven o'clock every morning. 

" At length I procured the speech of one of the 
pages, and heard that the night had been the most 
violently bad of any yet passed ! — and no wonder ! 

" I hardly knew how to creep up stairs, frozen both 
within and Vv'ithout, to tell such news ; but it was not 
received as if unexpected, and I omitted whatever was 

not essential to be known." 

***** 

" Thursday, December 11th. — To-day we have had 



26 MEMOIRS OF 

the fairest hopes ; the King took his first walk in Kew 
garden ! There have been impediments to this trial 
hitherto, that have been thought insurmountable, 
though in fact, they were most frivolous. The walk 
seemed to do him good, and we are all in better spirits 
about him than for this many and many a long day 

past." 

***** 

" Monday, December 15th. — This whole day was 
passed in great internal agitation throughout the house, 
as the great and important business of the Regency 
was to be discussed to-morrow in Parliament. All is 
now too painful and intricate for writing a word. I 
begin to confine my memorandums almost wholly to 

my own personal proceedings." 

***** 

" Monday, December 22d.— With what joy did I car- 
ry, this morning, an exceeding good account of the 
King to my Royal Mistress ! It was trebly welcome, 
as much might depend upon it in the resolutions of 
the House concerning the Regency, which was of 

to-day's discussion." 

***.** 

" Kew Palace, Thursday, January 1st. — ^The year 
opened with an account the most promising of our 
beloved King. I saw Dr. Willis, and he told me the 
night had been very tranquil ; and he sent for his son, 
Dr. John Willis, to give a history of the morning. Dr 
John's narration was in many parts very affecting : 
the dear and excellent King had been praying for his 
own restoration ! Both the doctors told me that such 
symptoms of true piety had scarce ever been discern- 
ible through so dreadful a malady. 

" How I hastened to my Queen ! — and with what 
alacrity I besought permission to run next to the 
Princesses ! It was so sweet, so soothing, to open a 
new year with the solace of anticipated good !" 



MADAME D'ARBLAY. 'Zl 

" I have not mentioned a singular present which has 
been sent me from Germany this month : it is an al- 
manac, in German, containing for its recreative part 
an abridgment of ' Cecilia,' in that language ; and 
every month opfens with a cut from some part of her 
history. It is sent by H. Henouvre, a gentleman in 
some office in the King's establishment at Hanover. 

I wish I could read it — but I have only written it !" 

* * * * * 

" Kew Palace, Monday, February 2d. — What an 
adventure had I this morning ! one that has occasion- 
ed me the severest personal terror I ever experienced 
in my hfe. 

" Sir Lucas Pepys still persisting that exercise and 
air were absolutely necessary to save me from illness, 
I have continued my walks, varying my gardens from 
Richmond to Kew, according to the accounts I received 
of the movements of the King. For this I had her Ma- 
jesty's permission, on the representation of Sir Lucas. 

" This morning, when I received my intelligence 
of the King from Dr. John Willis, I begged to know 
where I might walk in safety ? ' In Kew Gardens,' 
he said, ' as the King would be in Richmond.' 

" ' Should any unfortunate circumstance,' I cried, 
' at any time, occasion my being seen by his Majesty, 
do not mention my name, but let me run olF without 
call or notice.' 

" This he promised. Every body, indeed, is ordered 
to keep out of sight. 

" Taking, therefore, the time I had most at command, 
I strolled into the gardens. I had proceeded in my 
quick way, nearly half the round, when I suddenly 
perceived, through some trees, two or three figures. 
Rel3ring on the instructions of Dr. John, I concluded 
them to be workmen and gardeners ; yet tried to look 
sharp, and in so doing, as they were less shaded, I 
thought I saw the person of his Majesty ! 



)i9 MEMOIRS OF 

" Alarmed past all expression, I waited not to 
know more, but turning my back, ran off with all my 
might. But what was my terror to hear myself pur- 
sued ! — to hear the voice of the King himself loudly 
and hoarsely calling after me, ' Miss Burney ! Miss 
Burney !' 

" I protest I was ready to die. I knew not in what 
state he might be at the time ; I only knew the or- 
ders to keep out of his way were universal ; that the 
Queen would highly disapprove of any unauthorized 
meeting, and that the very action of my running away 
might deeply, in his present irritable state, offend him. 
Nevertheless, on I ran, too terrified to stop, and in 
search of some short passage, for the garden is full of 
little labyrinths, by which 1 might escape. 

"The steps still pursued me, and still the poor hoarse 
and altered voice rang in ray ears : — more and more 
footsteps resounded frightfully behind me, — the at- 
tendants all running, to catch their eager master, and 
the voices of the two Dr. Willises loudly exhorting 
him not to heat himself so unmercifully. 

" Heavens, how I ran ! I do not think I should 
have felt the hot lava from Vesuvius — at least not the 
hot cinders — had I ran so during its eruption. My 
feet were not sensible that they even touched the 
ground. 

" Soon after, I heard other voices, shriller, though 
less nervous, call out ' Stop ! stop ! stop !' 

" I could by no means consent : I knew not what 
was purposed, but I recollected fully my agreement 
with Dr. John that very morning, that I should decamp 
if surprised, and not be named. 

" My own fears and repugnance, also, after a flight 
and disobedience like this, were doubled in the thought 
of not escaping ; I knew not to what I might be ex- 
posed, should the malady then be high, and take the 
turn of resentment. Still, therefore, on i fiew j and 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 29 

such was my speed, so almost incredible to relate 
or recollect, that I fairly believe no one of the whole 
party could have overtaken me, if these words, from 
one of the attendants, had not reached me, ' Doctor 
Willis begs you to stop !' 

" ' I cannot ! I cannot !' I answered, still flying on, 
when he called out ' You must, ma'am ; it hurts the 
King to run.' 

" Then, indeed, I stopped — in a state of fear really 
amounting to agony. I turned round, I saw the two 
doctors had got the King between them, and three 
attendants of Dr. Willis's were hovering about They 
all slackened their pace, as they saw me stand still ; 
but such was the excess of my alarm, that I was 
wholly insensible to the effects of a race which, at any 
other time would have required an hour's recruit. 

" As they approached, some little presence of mind 
happily came to my command : it occurred to me 
that, to appease the wrath of my flight, I must now 
show some confidence : I therefore faced them as un- 
dauntedly as I w^as able, only charging the nearest of 
the attendants to stand by my side. 

" When they were within a few yards of me, the 
King called out, ' Why did you run away V 

" Shocked at a question impossible to answer, yet a 
little assured by the mild tone of his voice, I instantly 
forced myself forward, to meet him, though the inter- 
nal sensation which satisfied me this was a step the 
most proper to appease his suspicions and displeasure, 
was so violently combated by the tremour of my 
nerves, that I fairly think I may reckon it the greatest 
effort of personal courage I have ever made. 

" The effort answ^ered : I looked up, and met all 
his wonted benignity of countenance, though some- 
thing still of wildness in his eyes. Think, however, of 
my surprise, to feel him put both his hands round my 
two shoulders, and then kiss my cheek ! 
2 c* 



30 MEMOIRS OF 

" I wonder I did not really sink, so exquisite was 
my affright, when I saw him spread out his arms ! In- 
voluntarily, I concluded he meant to crush me : but 
the Willises, who have never seen him till this fatal 
illness, not knowing how very extraordinary an action 
this was from him, simply smiled and looked pleased, 
supposing, perhaps, it was his customary salutation ! 

" I believe, however, it was but the joy of a heart 
unbridled, now, by the forms and proprieties of sober 
reason. To see any of his household thus by acci- 
dent, seemed such a near approach to liberty and re- 
covery, that who can wonder it should serve rather to 
elate than lessen what yet remains of his disorder ! 

" He now spoke in such terms of his pleasure in 
seeing me, that I soon lost the whole of my terror ; 
astonishment to find him so nearly well, and gratifi- 
cation to see him so pleased, removed every uneasy 
feeling, and the joy that succeeded, in my conviction of 
his recovery, made me ready to throw myself at his 
feet to express it. 

" What a conversation followed ! When he saw 
me fearless, he grew more and more alive, and even 
the Willises themselves, who to indulge him, retreated. 
I own myself not completely composed, but alarm I 
could not entertain no more. 

" Every thing that came uppermost in his mind, he 
mentioned ; he seemed to have just such remains of 
his flighliness as heated his imagination without de- 
ranging his reason > and robbed him of all control over 
his speech, though nearly in his perfect state of mind 
as to his opinions. 

" What did he not say ! — He opened his whole 
heart to me, expounded all his sentiments, and ac- 
quainted me with all his intentions. 

The heads of his discourse I must give you briefly, 
as I am sure you will be highly curious to hear them, 
and as no accident can render of much consequence 



31 

what a man says in such a state of physical intoxica- 
tion. 

" He assured me he was quite well — as well as he 
ever had been in his life ; and then inquired how I did, 
and how I went on '? and whether I was more comfort- 
able'? 

" If these questions, in their implication, surprised 
me, imagine how that surprise must increase when he 
proceeded to explain them ! He asked after the coad- 
jutrix, laughing and saying, * Never mind her ! — don't 
be oppressed, I am your friend ! don't let her cast you 
down ! — I know you have a hard time of it — but don't 
mind her !' 

"Almost thunderstruck with astonishment, I merely 
courtesied to his kind ' I am your friend,' and said 
nothing. 

" Then presently he added, ' Stick to your father — 
stick to your own family — let them be your objects.' 

" How readily I assented ! 

" Again he repeated all that I have just written, 
nearly in the same words, but ended it more seriously : 
he suddenly stopped, and held me to stop too, and 
putting his hand on his breast, in the most solemn 
manner, he gravely and slowly said, 'I will protect 
you ! — I promise you that — aad therefore depend up- 
on me !' 

" I thanked him ; and the Willises, thinking him 
rather too elevated, came to propose my walking on. 
' No, no, no !' he cried, a hundred times in a breath ; 
and their good humour prevailed, and they let him 
again walk on with his new companion. 

" He then gave me a history of his pages, anima- 
ting almost into a rage, as he related his subjects of 
displeasure with them, particularly Mr. Ernst, who, 
he told me, had been brought up by himself. I hope 
his ideas upon these men are the result of the mistake? 
of his malady. 



32 MEMOIRS OF 

" Then he asked me some questions that very great- 
ly distressed me, relating to information given him in 
his illness, from various motives, but vv^hich he sus- 
pected to be false, and which I knew he had reason 
to suspect : yet it w^as most dangerous to set any thing 
right, as I was not aware what might be the views of 
their having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as 
I knew" how to be, and I hope I did no mischief 3 but 
this was the worst part of the dialogue. 

" He next talked to me a great deal of my dear 
father, and made a thousand inquiries concerning his 
^ History of Music' This brought him to his favour- 
ite theme, Handel ; and he told me innumerable 
anecdotes of him, and particularly that celebra- 
ted tale of HandePs saying of himself, when a boy, 
' While that boy lives, my music will never want a 
protector.' And this, he said, I might relate to my 
father. 

" Then he ran over most of his oratorios, attempting 
to sing the subjects of several airs and chorusses, but 
so dreadfully hoarse that the sound was terrible. 

" Dr. Willis, quite alarmed at this exertion, feared 
he would do himself harm, and again proposed a sep- 
aration. ' No ! no I no !' he exclaimed, ' not yet ; 1 
have something I must just mention first.' 

" Dr. Willis, delighted to comply, even when un- 
easy at compliance, again gave w^ay. 

" The good King then greatly affected me. He 
began upon my revered old friend, Mrs. Delany, and 
he spoke of her with such warmth — such kindness ^ 
* She was my friend !' he cried ! ' and I loved her as 
a friend ! I have made a memorandum w'hen I lost 
her — I will show it you.' 

" He pulled out a pocket-book, and rummaged some 
time but to no purpose. 

" The tears stood in his eyes — he wiped them, and 
Dr. Willis again became very anxious. ' Come, sir,' 



MADAME D'ARBLAY. 66 

he cried, * now do you come in, and let the lady go 
on her walk, — come, now you have talked a long 
while, — so we'll go in, — if your Majesty pleases.' 

*"' ' No, no !' he cried, ' I want to ask her a few 
questions ; — I have lived so long out of the world I 
know nothing !' 

" This touched me to the heart. We walked on 
together, and he inquired after various persons, par- 
ticularly Mrs. Boscawen, because she was Mrs. Dela- 
ny's friend ! Then, for the same reason, after Mr. 
Frederick Montague, of whom he kindly said, ' I know 
he has a great regard for me, for all he joined the op- 
position.' Lord Grey de Wilton, Sir Watkin Wynn, 
the Duke of Beaufort, and various others, followed. 

" He then told me he was very much dissatisfied 
with several of his state officers, and meant to form 
an entire new establishment. He took a paper out 
of his pocket-book, and showed me his new list. 

" This was the wildest thing that passed ; and Dr. 
John Willis now seriously urged our separating ; but 
he would not consent ; he had only three more words 
to say, he declared, and again he conquered. 

" He now spoke of my father with still more kind- 
ness, and he told me he ought to have had the post 
of Master of the Band, and not that little poor musi- 
cian Parsons, who was not fit for it : * But Lord Sal- 
isbury,' he cried, ' used your father very ill in that 
business, and so he did me ! However, I have dash- 
ed out his name, and shall put your father's in, — as 
soon as I get loose again !' 

" This again — how affecting was this ! 

*' ' And what,' cried he, * has your father got at last? 
nothing but that poor thing at Chelsea ? O fie ! fie ! 
fie ! But never mind ! I will take care of him ! I 
will do it myself !' 

" Then presently he added, ' As to Lord Salisbury, 
he is out already, as this memorandum will show you, 



d4 MEMOIRS OF 

and so are many more. I shall be much better served ; 
and when I once get away, I shall rule with a rod of 
iron !' 

" This was very unlike himself, and startled the 
two good doctors, who could not bear to cross him, 
and were exulting at my seeing his great amendment, 
but yet grew quite uneasy at his earnestness and 
volubility. 

'' Finding we must now part, he stopped to take 
leave, and renewed again his charges about the coad- 
jutrix. ' Never mind her !' he cried, ' depend upon 
me ! I will be your friend as long as I live ! — I here 
pledge myself to be your friend !' And then he salu- 
ted me again just as at the meeting, and suffered me 
to go on. 

" What a scene ! how variously affected was I by 
it ! but, upon the whole, hov»^ inexpressibly thankful 
to see him so nearly himself — so little removed from 
recovery ! 

" I went very soon after to the Queen, to whom I 
was most eager to avow the meeting, and how little 
1 could help it. Her astonishment and her earnest- 
ness to hear every particular were very great. I told 
her almost all. 

" Some few things relating to the distressing ques- 
tions, I could not repeat ; nor many things said of Mrs. 
Schwellenberg, which would much, and very need- 
lessly, have hurt her. 

" This interview, and the circumstances belonging 
to it, excited general curiosity, and all the house 
watched for opportunities to beg a relation of it. How 

delighted was I to tell them all my happy prognostics !" 

***** 

" Tuesday, 3d. — I had the great happiness to be 
assured this morning, by both the Dr. Willises, that 
his Majesty was by no means the worse for our long 
conference. Those good men are inexpressibly happy 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 35 

themselves in the delightful conviction given me, and 
by me spread about, of the near recovery of their 
royal patient.'' 



CHAPTER III. 

Recovery of the King— The Queen's " Prayer of Thanksgiving " — 
Demonstrations of Joy on the King's Recovery — Poem presented 
by the Princess Amelia— Miss Barney's interview with Mrs. Pi- 
ozzi — Miss Burney's Tragedy — Mr. Boswell's solicitation — Grave 
Sam and Gay Sam — Decline of Miss Burney's health — She purpo- 
ses to resign her situation — The Memorial — The King's grief at 
Miss Burney's determination — The Queen <lelays Miss Bm-ney's 
departure — Mademoiselle Jacob! — Munificence of the Queen — 
Affecting parting with the Royal Family. 

At the King's earnest desire, he was permitted to 
see the Queen and to walk with her in Kew Gardens. 
From this time his reason gradually returned, and be- 
fore the close of that month he was entirely restored. 
The joy throughout the Palace was unbounded ; but 
few experienced more heartfelt gratitude and delight 
than Miss Burney. The following extracts will give 
some conception of her emotion and happiness : 

"Kew Palace. 

" Sunday, March 1st. — What a pleasure was mine 
this morning ! how solemn, but how grateful ! The 
Queen gave me the ' Prayer of Thanksgiving' upon 
the King's recovery. It was this morning read in all 
the churches throughout the metropolis, and by this 
day week it will reach every church in the kingdom. 
It kept me in tears all the morning, — that such a mo- 
ment should actually arrive ! after fears so dreadful, 
scenes so terrible. 

" The Queen gave me a dozen, to distribute among 
the female servants ; but I reserved one of them for 
dear Mr. Smelt, who took it from me in speechless ex- 



36 MERIOIRS OF 

tacy — his fine and feeling eyes swimming in te^rs of 

" There is no describing — -and I will not attempt it — » 
the fullness, the almost overwhelming fullness of this 
morning's thankful feehngs ! 

" I had the g; eac gratification to see the honoured 
object of this joy, for a few minutes, in the Queen's 
dressing-room. He was all calmness and benevolent 
graciousness. I fancied my strong emotion had dis- 
figured me ; or perhaps the whole of this long con- 
finement and most affecting winter may have some- 
what marked my countenance; for the King presently 
said to me, 

a i Pray, are you quite well to-day ?" 

" ' I think not quite, sir,' I answered. 

" ' She does not look well,' said he to the Queen i 

* she looks a little — yellow, I think.' " 

******* 

" Tuesday, March 10th. — This was a day of hap- 
piness indeed ! a day of such heartfelt public delight 
as could not but suppress all private disturbance. 

" The King sent to open the House of Lords by 
Commission. ' ' ' 

" The general illumination of all London proved the 
tmiversal joy of a thankful and most affectionate peo- 
ple, who have shown so largely, on this trying occa- 
sion, how well they merited the monarch thus benig- 
nantly preserved. 

" The Queen, froL her privy purse, gave private 
orders for a splendid illumination at this palace : Re- 
becca painted a beautiful transparency ; and Mr. Smelt 
had the regulation of the whole. 

" The King — Providence — -Health — and Britannia, 
were displayed with elegant devices : the Queen and 
Princesses, all but the youngest, went to town to see 
the illumination there ; and Mr. Smelt was to conduct 
tiie surprise. It was magnificently beautiful. 



MADAME B'ARBLAY. £57 

" When it was lighted and prepared, the Princess 
Amelia went to lead her Papa to the front window : 
but ^rst she dropped on her knees, and presented him 
a paper with these lines — which, at the Queen's de- 
sire, I had scribbled in her name, for the happy occa- 
sion : 

TO THE KING. 

Amid a rapt'rous nation's praise 

That sees Thee to their prayers restor'd, 

Turn gently from the gen'ral blaze, 
Thy Charlotte woos her bosom's lord. 

Turn and behold where, bright and clear, 

Depictur'd with transparent art, 
The emblems of her thoughts appear, 

The tribute of a grateful heart. 

O ! small the tribute, were it weigh'd 

With all she feels — or half she owes ! 
But noble minds are best repaid 

From the pure spring whence bounty Hows. 

P. S. The little bearer begs a kiss 

From dear Papa, for bringing this. 

" I need not, I thinV t^U you the little bearer beg- 
ged not in vain. The King was extremely pleased. 
He came into a room belonging to the Princesses, in 
which we had a party to look at the illuminations, and 
there he stayed above an hour ; cheerful, composed, 
and gracious ! all that could merit the great national 
testimony to his worth this day ^^aid him." 

iff- ^ ^ ^ ^ 

During this spring Miss Burney had an interview 
with Mrs. Piozzi, of which she gives no description. 
A month afterwards they again met. Miss Burney 
gives an accurate account of the manner in which they 
greeted each other. 

" Sunday, May 2nd. — This morning, in my way 
to church, just as I arrived at the iron gate of oiur 
2d 



6^ MEMOIRS OF 

court-yard, a well-known voice called out, ' Ah, 
there's Miss Burney !' 

" I started, looked round — and saw — Mrs. Piozzi 1 

" I hastened up to her ; she met my held-out hand 
with both hers : Mr. Piozzi and Cecilia were with 
her — all smihng and good-humoured. 

" ' You are going,' she cried, ' to church ? — so am I. 
I must run first to the inn : I suppose one may sit — 
anywhere one pleases V 

" * Yes,' I cried, * but you must be quick, or you 
will sit nowhere, there will be such a throng.' 

" This was all ; — ^she hurried on, — so did L 

" I received exceeding great satisfaction in this lit- 
tle and unexpected meeting. She had been upon the 
Terrace, and was going to change her hat ; and haste 
on both sides prevented awkwardness on either. 

" Yet I saw she had taken in good part my con- 
cluding hand-presentation at my dear Mr. Lock's : 
she met me no more with that fierte of defiance : it 
was not — nor can it ever be — with her old cordiality, 
but it was with some degree of pleasure, and that 
species of readiness which evinces a consciousness of 
meeting with a good reception." 

In the summer of 1790, Miss Burney completed a 
Tragedy, upon which she had been engaged at inter- 
vals for upwards of a year. She thus playfully com- 
municates the intelligence to her friends : 

''Know then, fair ladies, about the middle of this 
August, 1790, the author finished the first rough 
draught and copy of her first tragedy. What species 
of a composition it may prove, she is very unable to 
tell ; she only knows it was an almost spontaneous 
work, and soothed the melancholy of imagination for 
a while, though afterwards it impressed it with a secret 
sensation of horror, so like real woe, that she believes 
it contributed to the injury her sleep received about 
this period,'* 



39 

About this time, Mr. Boswell solicited her to furnish 
him with some of Dr. Johnson's notes to herself, which 
he might use in puHication. " Yes, Madam," says 
he, " you must give me some of your choice little 
notes of the Doctor's ; we have seen him long enough 
upon stilts ; I want to show him in a new light. 
Grave Sam, and Great Sam, and Solemn Sara, and 
Learned Sam — all these he has appeared over and 
over. Now I want to entwine a wreath of the gra- 
ces across his brow ; I want to show him as Gay Sam, 
Agreeable Sam, Pleasant Sam ; so you must help me 
with some of his beautiful billets to yourself." 

Miss Burney refused to grant this request ; and, in 
spite of Mr. Bos well's earnest entreaties, remained 
inexorable. 

The fatigues and anxieties of her life at Court had 
gradually undermined Miss Burney's health; her 
mode of living was distasteful to her — she was shut 
out from all private comfort, and dead to all domestic 
endearment — worn with want of rest, and fatigued 
with laborious watchfulness and attendance. She 
communicated her dissatisfaction to her father, who, 
with open arms, begged her to return to her parental 
roof. She joyfully accepted his offer, and drew up a 
memorial to present to the Queen, acquainting her 
Majesty with her proposed resignation. 

This memorial, she kept about her person for seve- 
ral months, but the Queen's kindness, condescension, 
and even affection towards her was so great, that she 
never had the courage to present it. At length she 
was seized with a severe illness, and found herself so 
feeble on recovering, that her duties became more irk- 
some than ever. She enclosed her memorial in a 
second one, and, after much deliberation and many 
fears, it was presented to her Majesty by Mrs. Schwel- 
lenberg. 

The Queen perused these memorials with emotion, 



40 MEMOIRS OF 

expressing the deepest regret at so great a loss. It 
was then proposed to Miss Burney that she should 
have leave of absence for six weeks, to travel about and 
change the air until she was quite well, and that then 
she should return to the Palace, retaining her situation. 
This proposition she would not have declined had her 
health been less feeble, but she was too weak and ill 
to have any choice. The Queen still delayed the 
hour of Miss Burney's departure, in hopes that she 
might change her mind, and could only be prevailed 
upon to name her successor when Miss Burney's ill- 
ness rendered her perfectly incapable of discharging 
her duties. 

Mademoiselle Jacobi, the daughter of a celebrated 
clergyman of Hanover, was her successor, and Miss 
Burney took great pains in giving this young lady all 
the information necessary in her new situation. 

The Queen, in spite of Miss Burney's expostula- 
tions, insisted on settling upon her one half of the 
salary which she received w^hile in office.* This 
mark of her Majesty's favour Miss Burney could not, 
without appearing ungracious, refuse. 

Her parting with the Royal Family was deeply 
affecting. She begged that she might occasionally 
be permitted to assist Mademoiselle Jacobi, or to read 
to the Queen, and that she should still be considered 
as a servant of her Majesty's. 

The Queen granted her request with tears in her 
eyes, wishing her all happiness, and Miss Burney sob- 
bed aloud. 

She had lived five years in the service of the Queen, 
and looked upon her not only as a protectress, but a 
dear friend. 

This Salary was i;200. 



41 



CHAPTER IV. 

Miss Burney^s return home — Congratulations — Travelling — Health 
partially restored — New mode of Life — The Library — A third 
Tragedy commenced — Interview with Sir Joshua Reynolds — His 
Loss of Sight — Miss Burney's meeting with Miss Garrick — A sum- 
mons from the Queen — The Royal Family — Miss Burney becomes 
a teiTiporary attendant upon her Majesty — Disappointment — A 
second visit to the Queen — Flattering reception. 

Miss Burney was welcomed on her return home by 
the warmest and dearest friends, who thronged around 
her, rendered almost unable" by strong emotions to 
speak their congratulations. Her own feelings may 
be imagined from the following paragraph, which 
commences her Journal after her return. 

" Once more I have the blessing to address my be- 
loved friends from the natal home ! — with a satisfac- 
tion, a serenity of heart immeasurable. All smaller 
evils shall now give way to one great good ; and I 
shall not, I hope, be forgetful, when the world wags 
ill, that scarce any misfortune, scarce misery itself, 
can so wastefully desolate the very soul of my ex- 
istence, as a banishment, even the most honorable, 
from those I love. 

After several months passed in travelling through 
the West of England, Miss Burney returned home 
much improved in health, but not perfectly restored. 
" My health," she writes, " gains ground gradually, 
but very perceptibly, and a weakness that makes me 
too soon exhausted in whatever I undertake, is all of 
illness now remaining." 

" I have never been so pleasantly situated at home 
since I lost the sister of my heart and my most affec- 
tionate Charlotte. My father is almost constantly 
within. Indeed, I now live with him wholly ; he has 
himself appropriated me a place, a seat, a desk, a 



42 MEMOIRS OF 

table, and every convenience and comfort, and he 
never seemed yet so earnest to keep me about him. 
We read together, write together, chat, compare 
notes, communicate projects, and diversify each 
other's employments. He is all goodness, gaiety, 
and affection ', and his society and kindness are more 
precious to me than ever. 

" Fortunately, in this season of leisure and com- 
fort, the spirit of composition proves active. The 
day 16 never long enough, and I could employ two 
pens almost incessantly, in merely scribbling what 
will not be repressed. This is a delight to my dear 
father inexpressibly great : and though I have gone 
no further than to let him know, from time to time, 
the species of matter that occupies me, he is perfectly 
contented, and patiently waits till something is quite 
finished, before he insists upon reading a word. This 
* suits my humour well,' as my own industry is all 
gone when once its intent is produced. 

"For the rest, I have been going on with my third 
tragedy. I have two written, but never yet have 
had opportunity to read them; which, of course, 
prevents their being corrected to the best of my 
power, and fitted for the perusal of less indulgent 
eyes ; or rather of eyes less prejudiced, 

" Believe me, my dear friends, in the present com- 
posed and happy state of my mind, I could never 
have suggested these tales of woe ; but, having only 
to connect, combine, contract, and finish, I will not 
leave them undone. Not, however, to sadden myself 
to the same point in which I began them, I read more 
than I write, and call for happier themes from others, 
to enliven my mind from the dolorous sketches I now 
draw of my own. 

" The library or study, in which we constantly sit, 
supplies such delightful variety of food, that I have 



43 

nothing to wish. Thus, my beloved sisters and 
fiiends, you see me, at length, enjoying all that peace, 
ease, and chosen recreation and employment, for 
which so long I sighed in vain, and which, till very 
lately, I had reason to believe, even since attained, 
had been allowed me too late. I am more and 
more thankful every night, every morning, for the 
change in my destiny, and present blessings of my 
lot ; and you, my beloved Susan and Fredy, for 
whose prayers I have so often applied in my sadness, 
suffering, and despondence, afford me now the same 
community of thanks and acknowledgments." 

The ensuing description of Miss Burney's first in- 
terview with Sir Joshua Reynolds, the celebrated 
painter, after her resignation, will be highly accep- 
table to the many who revere his genius and virtues. 

" Another evening, after visiting our Esther, my 
father took me to Sir Joshua Reynolds. I had long 
languished to see that kindly zealous friend, but his 
ill health had intimidated me from making the at- 
tempt ; and now my dear father went up stairs alone, 
and inquired of Miss Palmer if her uncle was well 
enough to admit me. He returned for me immedi- 
ately. I felt the utmost pleasure in again mounting 
his staircase. 

" Miss Palmer hastened forward and embraced me 
most cordially. I then shook hands with Sir Joshua. 
He had a bandage over one eye, and the other shaded 
with a green half-bonnet. He seemed serious even to 
sadness, though extremely kind. ' I am very glad,' 
he said, in a meek voice and dejected accent, ^ to see 
you again, and 1 v/ish I could see you better ! but I 
have only one eye now, — and hardly that.' 

" I was really quite touched. The expectation of 
total blindness depresses him inexpressibly ; not, how- 
ever, inconceivably. I hardly knew how to express, 
either my concern for his altered situation since our 



44 MEMOIRS OP 

meeting, or my joy in again being with him : but my 
difficulty was short ; Miss Palmer eagerly drew me 
to herself, and recommended to Sir Joshua to go on 
with his cards. He had no spirit to oppose; proba- 
bly, indeed, no inclination." 

Her meeting with Mrs. Garrick is hardly less in- 
teresting. 

" We went to dinner, my father and I, and met 
Mrs. Montage, in good spirits, and very unatfectedly 
agreeable. No one was there to awaken ostentation, 
no new acquaintance to require any surprise from her 
powers, she was therefore natural and easy, as well 
as informing and entertaining. 

*• Mrs. Garrick embraced me again and again, to ex- 
press a satisfaction in meeting me once more in this 
social way, that she would have thought it indecorous 
to express by words. I thanked her exactly in the 
same language ; and, without a syllable being uttered, 
she said, ' I rejoice you are no longer a courtier ;' and 
I answered, ^ I love you dearly for preferring me in 
my old state !' " 

In the commencement of the ensuing year. Miss 
Burney received a summons from the Queen. The 
following is her account of the two days she passed 
at the palace : 

"January. — I had a very civil note from Mrs. 
Schwellenberg, telling me that Miss Goldsworthy was 
ill, which made Miss Gomrae necessary to the Prin- 
cesses, and therefore, as Mile. Jacobi was still lame, 
Her Majesty wished for my attendance on Wednes- 
day noon. 

" I received this little summons with very sincere 
pleasure, and sent a warm acknowledgment for its 
honour. I was engaged for the evening to Mr. Wal- 
pole, now Lord Orford, by my father, who promised 
to call for me at the Queen's house. 

" At noon, I went thither, and saw, by the carriages, 



• 45 

their Majesties were just arrived from Windsor. In 
my way up stairs I encountered the Princess Sophia. 
I really felt a pleasure at her sight, so great that 1 
believe I saluted her ; I hardly know ; but she came 
forward, with her hands held out, so good humored 
and so sweetly, I was not much on my guard. How 
do I wish I had gone that moment to my Royal Mis- 
tress, while my mind was fully and honestly occupied 
with the most warm satisfaction in being called again 
into her presence ! 

" The Princess Sophia desired me to send her Miss 
Gomme, whom she said I should find in my own 
room. Thither I went, and we embraced very cor- 
dially; but she a little made me stare by saying 
' Do you sleep in your old bed V ' No,' I answered, 
' I go home after dinner ;' and she said no more, but 
told me she must have two hours' conference alone 
with me, from the multiplicity of things she had to 
discuss with me. 

" We parted then, and I proceeded to Mrs. Schwel- 
lenberg. There I was most courteously received, and 
told I was to go at night to the play. 

" I replied I was extremely sorry, but I was en- 
gaged. 

" She looked deeply displeased, and I was forced 
to offer to send an excuse. Nothing, however, was 
settled ; she went to the Queen, whither I was most 
eager to follow, but I depended upon her arrange- 
ment, and could not go uncalled. 

" I returned to my own room, as they all still call 
it, and Miss Gomme and Miss Planta both came to 
me. We had a long discourse upon matters and 
things. 

" By and by Miss Gomme was called out to Prin- 
cesses Mary and Ameha ; she told them who was in 
the old apartment, and they instantly entered it. 
Princess Mary took my hand, and said repeatedly, 



46 MEMOIRS OF 

' My dear Miss Burney, how glad I am to see you 
again !' and the lovely little Princess Amelia kissed 
me twice, with the sweetest air of affection. This 
was a very charming meeting to me, and I expressed 
my real delight in being thus allowed to come 
amongst them again, in the strongest and truest 
terms. 

" I had been but a short time alone, when Wes- 
terhaults came to ask me if I had ordered my father's 
carriage to bring me from the play. 

"I told him I was engaged, but would give up 
that engagement, and endeavour to secure being 
fetched home after the play. 

" Mrs. Schwellenberg then desired to see me. 

" ' What you mean by going home V cried she, 
somewhat deridingly: 'know you not you might 
sleep here V 

" I was really thunderstruck ; so weak still, and 
so unequal as I feel to undertake night and morning 
attendance, which I now saw expected. I was 
obhged, however, to comply ; and I wrote a note to 
Sarah, and another note to be given to my father, 
when he called to take me to Lord Orford. But I 
desired we might go in chairs, and not trouble him 
for the carriage. 

"This arrangement, and my dread of an old 
attendance I was so little refitted for renewing, had 
so much disturbed me before I was summoned to the 
Queen, that I appeared before her without any of 
the glee and spirits with which I had originally 
obeyed her commands. I am still grieved at this 
circumstance, as it must have made me seem cold and 
insensible to herself, when I was merely chagrined at 
the peremptory mismanagement of her agent. Mr. 
De Luc was with her. She was gracious, but by no 
means lively or cordial. She was offended, proba- 
bly, — and there was no reason to wonder, and yet no 



MADAME D'ARBLAY. 47 

means to clear away the cause. This gave me much 
vexation, and the more I felt it the less I must have 
appeared to merit her condescension. 

" Nevertheless, after she was dressed she honoured 
me with a summons to the White Closet, where I 
presently felt as much at home as if I had never 
quitted the Royal residence. She inquired into my 
proceedings, and I began a little history of my south* 
west tour ; which she listened to till word was 
brought the Kino- was come from the Levee : dinner 
was then ordered, and I was dismissed. 

" At our dinner, the party, in the old style, was Mr. 
De Luc, Miss Planta, Mrs. Stainforth, and Miss Gom- 
me; Mrs. Schwellenberg was not well enough to 
leave her own apartment, except to attend the Queen. 

" We were gay enough, I own ; my spirits were 
not very low in finding myself a guest at that table, 
where I was so totally unfit to be at home, and 
whence, nevertheless, I should have been very much 
and deeply concerned to have found myself excluded, 
since the displeasure of the Queen could alone have 
procured such a banishment. Besides, to visit, I like 
the whole establishment, however inadequate I found 
them for supplying the place of all I quitted to live 
with them. 0, who could succeed there ? 

" During the dessert the Princess Elizabeth came 
into the room. I was very glad, by this means, to 
see all this lovely female tribe. 

" As soon as she was gone I made off to prepare 
for the play, with fan, cloak, and gloves. At the 
door of my new old room who should I encounter but 
Mr. Stanhope ! He was all rapture, in his old way, 
at the meeting, and concluded me, I believe, rein* 
stated. I got oflf as fast as possible, and had just 
shut myself in, and him out, when I heard the voice 
of the King, who passed my door to go to the dining- 
room. 



48 MEMOIRS OP 

*^ I was quite chagrined to have left it so unseason- 
ably, as my whole heart yearned to see him. He 
stayed but a minute, and I heard him stop close to 
my door, and speak with Mr. De Luc. The loudness 
of his voice assuring me he was saying nothing he 
meant to be unheard, I could not resist softly opening 
my door. I fancy he expected this, for he came up 
to me immediately, and with a look of goodness al- 
most amounting to pleasure— I believe I may say 
quite— he inquired after my health, and its restora- 
tion, and said he w^as very giad to see me again. 
Then turning gaily to Mr. De Luc, ' And you, Mr. 
De Luc,' he cried, ' are not you, too, very glad to 
see Miss Beurni again V 

" I told him, very truly, the pleasure with which I 
had re-entered his roof. — He made me stand near a 
lamp, to examine me, and pronounced upon my 
amended looks with great benevolence : and, when 
he was walking away, said aloud to Mr. De Luc, who 
attended him, 'I dare say she was very willing to 
come !' 

" I heard afterwards from Miss Gorame that the 
King came to the eating-room purposely to see me, 
as he told the Princesses. I cannot tell you how 
grateful I feel for such condescending goodness ; and 
how invariably I experienced it during my whole 
residence nnder his roof. 

" Our party in the box for the Queen's attendants 
consisted of Lady Catherine Stanhope, Miss Planta, 
Major Price, Greville Upton, and Mr. Frank Upton. 

" The King and Queen and six Princesses sat op- 
posite. It was to me a lovely and most charming 
sight. The Prince of Wales, and the Duke of York 
and his bride, with the Duke of Clarence, sat imme- 
diately under us. I saw the Duchess now and then, 
and saw that she has a very sensible and marked 
countenance, but no beauty. She was extremely 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 49 

well received by the people, and smiled at in the 
most pleasing manner by her opposite new relations. 

" The play was * Cymon/ with alterations, &c. 

" At night I once more attended the Queen, and it 
seemed as strange to me as if I had never done it 
before. 

" The next day, Thursday, the Queen gave up the 
drawing-room, on account of a hurt on her foot. I 
had the honour of another very long conference in the 
White Closet, in which I finished the account of my 
late travels, and during which, though she was very 
gracious, she was far less communicative than here- 
tofore, saying little herself, and making me talk al- 
most all. 

" When I attended the Queen again to-night, the 
strangeness was so entirely worn away, that it seem- 
ed to me as if I had never left my office ! And so 
again on Friday morning. 

" At noon the Royal Family set off for Windsor. 

"The Queen graciously sent for me before she 
went, to bid me good by, and condescended to thank 
me for my little services. I would have offered repe- 
tition with all my heart, but I felt ray frame unequal 
to such business. Indeed I was half dead with only 
two days' and nights' exertion. 'Tis amazing how I 
ever went through all that is passed." 

A few months after this interview Miss Burney 
again visited the Queen, and this time she was not 
disappointed in seeing his Majesty. 

" I attended Mile Jacobi to the Queen's house, 
where I dined; and great indeed was my pleasure, 
during coffee, to see the Princess Elizabeth, who, in 
the most pleasing manner and the highest spirits, 
came to summon me to the Queen. 

" I found Her Majesty again with all her sweet 
daughters but the youngest. She^ was gracious and 
disposed to converse. 

2 



50 MEMOIRS OF 

" We had a great deal of talk upon public con- 
cerns, and she told me a friend of mine had spoken 
very well the day before, and so had Mr. Burke. 

" Soon after, to my infinite joy, the King entered. 
O, he spoke to me so kindly ! — -he congratulated me 
on the better looks which his own presence and good- 
ness gave me, repeatedly declaring he had never seen 
me in such health. He asked after my father, and 
listened with interest when I mentioned his depres- 
sion, and told him that all he had done of late to 
soothe his retirement and pain had been making 
canons to solemn words, and with such difficulties of 
composition as, in better health and spirits, would 
have rather proved oppressive and perplexing than a 
rehef to his feelings. 

" * I, too,' said the king, after a very serious pause, 
* have myself sometimes found, when ill or disturbed, 
that some grave and even difficult employment for 
my thoughts has tended more to compose me than 
any of the supposed usual relaxations.' 

" He also condescended to ask after httle Norbury, 
taking off the eager little fellow while he spoke, and 
his earnest manner of delivery. He then inquired 
about my friends Mr. and Mrs. Lock, and their ex- 
pectations of the return of Mr. WiUiam. 

" He inquired how I lived, whom I saw, what sort 
of neighbours I had in the college, and many other 
particulars, that seemed to desire to know how I went 
on, and whether I was comfortable. His looks, I am 
sure, said so, and most sweetly and kindly. 

" They kept me till they went to the Japan Room, 
where they meet the officers and ladies who attend 
them in public. They were going to the Ancient 
Music. 

"This dear King, nobly unsuspicious where left 
to himself, and where he has met no doubleness, spoke 
also very freely of some political matters before me 



51 

— of the new association in particular. It gratified 
me highly." 



CHAPTER V. 

Madame de Genlis's strange establishment at Bm*y — Pamela — 
Birthday of the King — Miss Burney again piys her devoirs to the 
Royal Family— The Queen's Graciousness— Recal of the English 
Ambassador from France— Arrival of French Emigrant Noblesse 
—The Reign of Terror— A meeting with old friends— Early Inci- 
dent of the French Revolution — Anecdotes of the Due de Lian- 
court — His perils and Escape from France— The Due de la 
Rochefoucavut. 

In May, 1792, Miss Burney received some very dis- 
tressing intelligence concerning her former friend 
Madame de Genlis. 

" I got home to dinner to meet Mrs. and Miss Mary 
Young, who are in town for a few weeks. Miss Mary 
is sensible, and quick, and agreeable." 

" They give a very unpleasant account of Madame 
De Genlis, or De Sillery, or Brulard, as she is now 
called. They say she has estabhshed herself at Bury, 
in their neighbourhood, wdth Mile, la Princesses d'- 
Orleans and Pamela, and a Circe, another young girl 
under her care. They have taken a house, the mas- 
ter of which always dines with them, though Mrs. 
Young says he is such a low man he should not dine 
with her daughter. They form twenty with them- 
selves and household. They keep a botanist, a chem- 
ist, and a natural historian always with them. These 
are supposed to have been common servants of the 
Duke of Orleans in former days, as they always walk 
behind the ladies when abroad ; but, to make amends 
in the new equalizing style, they all dine together at 
home. They visit at no house but Sir Thomas Gage's, 
where they carry their harps, and frequently have 
music. They have been to a Bury ball, and danced 



52 MEMOIRS OF 

all night ; Mile. d'Orleans with anybody, known or 
unknown to Madame Brulard. 

" What a woful change from that elegant, amiable, 
high-bied Madame De Genlis I knew six years ago ! 
the apparent pattern of female perfection in manners, 
conversation, and delicacy." 

On the birth-day of the King which occurred in 
June, Miss Burney again paid her devoirs to their 
Majesties. 

" June 4th. — The birthday of our truly good King. 

" As His Majesty had himself given me, when I saw 
him after the Queen's birthday, an implied reproach 
for not presenting myself at the place that day, I de- 
termined not to incur a similar censure on this, espe- 
cially as I hold my admission on such a national fes- 
tival as a real happiness, as well as honour, when it 
is to see themselves. 

" How different was my attire from every other such 
occasion the five preceding years ! It was a mere 
simple dressed undress, without feathers, flowers, 
hoop, or furbelows. 

" When I ahghted at the porter's lodge I was stop- 
ped from crossing the court-yard, by seeing the King, 
with his three sons, the Prince of Wales, Duke of 
York, and Duke of Clarence, who were standing there 
after ahghting from their horses, to gratify the people 
who encircled the iron rails. It was a pleasant and 
goodly sight, and I rejoiced in such a detention. 

" I had a terrible difficulty to find a friend who 
would make known to Her Majesty that I was come 
to pay my devoirs. 

" At length, while watching in the passages to 
and fro, I heard a step upon the Princesses' stairs, 
and, venturing forward, I encountered the Princess 
Elizabeth; I paid my respectful congratulation on the 
day, which she most pleasantly received, and I in- 
timated my great desire to see Her Majesty. I am 



53 

sure the amiable Princesses communicated my peti- 
tion, for Mr. De Luc came out in a few minutes and 
ushered me into the Royal presence. 

" The Queen was in her State Dressing-room, her 
head attired for the Drawing-room, superbly; but her 
Couii -dress, as usual, remaining to be put on at St. 
James's. She had already received all her early 
complimenters, and was prepared to go to St. 
James's : the Princess Royal was seated by her side, 
and all the other Princesses, except the Princess 
Amelia, were in the room, with the Duchess of York. 
Mr. De Luc, Mrs. Schwellenberg, Madame de la Fite, 
and Miss Goldsworthy w^ere in the background. 

" The Queen smiled upon me most graciously, and 
every Princess came up separately to speak with me. 
I thanked Her Majesty w^armly for admitting me upon 
such an occasion. " !" cried she, ' 1 resolved to see 
you the moment I knew you were here.' 

" She then inquired when I went into Norfolk, and 
conversed upon my summer plans, &c., with more of 
her original svreetness of manner than I have seen 
since my resignation. What pleasure this gave me ! 
and what pleasure did I feel in being kept by her till 
the liirther door opened, and the King entered, accom- 
panied by the Dukes of York and Clarence ! 

" I motioned to retreat, but, calling out, ' What, 
Miss Burney V the King came up to me, and inquir- 
ed how I did ; and began talking to me so pleasantly, 
so gaily, so kindly, even, that I had the satisfaction 
of remaining and of gathering courage to utter my 
good wishes and warm fervent prayers for this day. 
He deigned to h^ar me very benignly ; or make be- 
lieve he did, for I did not make my harangue very 
audibly ; but he must be sure of its purport. 

" He said I was grown ^ quite fat,' since he had 
seen me, and appealed to the Duke of York : he pro- 
tested my arm was half as big again as heretofore^ 
2-E* 



54 MEMOIRS OP 

and then he measured it with his spread thumbs and 
forefingers ; and the whole of his manner showed his 
perfect approbation of the step I had taken, of pre- 
senting myself in the Royal presence on this auspicious 
day. 

*' The Queen soon after walked up to me, and ask- 
ed if I should like to see the ball at night. I certain- 
ly should much like to have seen them ' in all their 
glory,' after seeing them thus in all their kindness, as 
well as to have been present at the first pubhc appear- 
ance at Court of the Princess Sophia : but I had no 
means to get from and to Chelsea so late at night, 
and was, therefore, forced to excuse myself, and de 
cline her gracious proposition of giving me tickets. 

" Princess Mary came to shake hands with me, and 
Princess Augusta spoke to me for some time with ex- 
treme sweetness ; in short, I was gratified in every 
possible way by the united goodness and condescen- 
sion of all the family. 

" Two days after, I went again to Westminster 
Hall with Miss Ord. Her good mother has a ticket 
for the Duke of Newcastle's box, in which she was 
seated. This day's business consisted of examining 
witnesses : it was meant for the last meeting during 
this session ; but when it was over, Mr. Hastings 
arose and addressed the Lords in a most noble and 
pathetic speech, praying them to continue their atten- 
dance till his defence v»^as heard throughout, or, at 
least, not to deny him the finishing his answer to the 
first charge. 

He spoke, I believe, to the hearts of everybody, 
except his persecutors : the whole assembly seemed 
evidently affected by what he urged, upon the unex- 
ampled delay of justice in his trial : silence was never 
more profound than that which his voice instantly 
commanded. Poor unhappy, injured gentleman ! 
How, how can such men practise cruelty so glaring 
as is manifested in the whole conduct of his trial ! 



MADAME D^ARBLAY. 66 

" From hence, as usual, I went to dine at the 
Queen's house : Mrs. Schwellenberg took me to the 
Queen after coffee. 

" She was writing to Lady Cremorne : she talked 
with me while she finished her letter, and then read it 
to me, exactly as in old times. She writes with ad- 
mirable facility, and pecuhar elegance of expression, 
as well as of hand-writing. 

" She asked me, somewhat curiously, if I had seen 
any of my old friends ? I found she meant opposi- 
tionists. I told her only at the trial. She kept me in 
converse till the dear King came into the room : he 
had a grandson of Lord Howe's with him, a little boy 
in petticoats, with whom he was playing, and who 
he thought remembered me. I had seen him fre- 
quently at Weymouth, and the innocent little fellow 
insisted upon making me his bows and reverences, 
when told to make them to the Queen. 

" The King asked me what had been doing at 
Westminster Hall ? I repeated poor Mr. Hastings's 
remonstrance, particularly a part of it in which he 
had mentioned that he had already ' appealed to his 
Majesty, whose justice he could not doubt.' The 
King looked a httle queer, but I was glad of the op- 
portunity of patting in a word for poor Mr. Hastings." 

Towards the close of 1792, Miss Burney's diary 
acquires even more than its former interest. Our ex- 
tracts both from her journal and correspondence at this 
period though longer than any former ones, could not 
be abbreviated without injury. 

*' Our ambassador is recalled from France ; Russia 
has declared war against that wretched kingdom. 
But it may defy all outward enemies to prove in any 
degree destructive in comparison wat.h its laAvless and 
barbarous inmates. We shall soon have no authentic 
accounts from Paris, as no English are expected to re- 
main after the Ambassador, and no French will dare 



56 MEMOIRS OF 

to write, in such times of pillage, what may carry 
them ' a la lanterne.' 

" Monday, September 24th. — We set out for Hal- 
stead, in Essex, — our Etty, her lovely Marianne, and 
I ; and there we were most affectionately welcomed 
by Mrs. Hawkins, and by il caro sposo. Sophia skip- 
ped with joy, and Cecilia was all smiles, grace, and 
enchantment. 

" Our time was almost all corroded by the general 
alarm for the political safety of all manner of people ; 
the successes of the fiends of France filled us with in- 
cessant horror, and the necessity of guarding against 
the contagion of plunder and equality, amongst the 
poor and the wicked, or the duped and the dupers, 
occupied us perpetually. 

MRS. PHILIPS TO MISS BURNEY. 

^' Mickieham, September, 1792. 

" We shall shortly, 1 believe, have a little colony of 
unfortunate (or rather, fortunate, since here they are 
safe) French noblesse in our neighborhood. Sunday 
evening Ravely informed Mr. Lock that two or three 
families had joined to take Jenkinson's house, Juniper 
Hall, and that another family had taken a small house 
at Westhumble, which the people very reluctantly 
let, upon the Christian-like supposition that, being 
nothing but French papishes, they would never pay. 
Our dear Mr. Lock, while this was agitating, sent 
word to the landlord that he would be answerable for 
the rent ; however, before this message arrived, the 
family were admitted. The man said, they had 
pleaded very hard indeed, and said if he did but know 
the distress they h id been in, he would not hesitate. 

" This house is taken by Madame de Broghe, 
daughter of the Mareschal, Vvdio is in the army with 
the French Princess ; or, rather, wife to his son, Vic- 



57 

tor Broglie, till very lately General of one of the 
French armies, and at present disgraced, and fled no- 
body knows where. This poor lady came over in an 
open boat, w^ith a son younger than my Norbury, and 
was fourteen hours at sea. She has other ladies with 
her, and gentlemen, and two little girls, who had 
been sent to England some weeks ago ; they are all 
to lodge in a sort of cottage, containing only a kitchen 
and parlour on the ground floor. 

" I long to offer them my house, and have been 
much gratified by finding Mr. Lock immediately de- 
termined to visit them j his taking this step will se- 
cure them the civilities, at least, of the other neigh- 
bours. 

" At Jenkinson's are — la Marquise de la Chatre, 
whose husband is with the emigrants ; her son ; 
M. de Narbonne, lately Ministre de la Guerre ; M. de 
Montmorency ; Charles or Theodore Lameth ; Jau- 
court ; and one or two more, whose names I have 
forgotten, are either arrived to-day, or expected. I 
feel infinitely interested for all these persecuted per- 
sons. Pray tell me w^hatever you hear of M. de Lian- 
court, &c. Heaven bless you ! 

MISS BURNEY TO DR. BURNEY. 

'* Halstead, October 2nd, '92. 

" My DEAREST Padre, — I have just got your direc- 
tion, in a letter from my mother, and an account that 
you seem to be in health and spirits ; so now I think 
it high time to let you know a little about some of 
your daughters, lest you should forget you have any 
such incumbrances. 

" In the first place, two of them, Esher and F. B., 
had a safe and commodious journey hither, in the 
midst of pattering showers and cloudy skies, making 
up as well as they could for the deficiencies of the 
elements by the dulcet recreation of the concord of 



68 MEMOIRS OF 

sweet sounds ; not from tabrets and harps, but from 
the harmony of hearts with tongues. 

" In the second place, a third of them, Charlotte 
F., writes word her caro sposo has continued very 
tolerably well this last fortnight, and that she still 
desires to receive my visit according to the first ap- 
pointment. 

" In the third place, a fourth of them, Sarah, is 
living upon French politics and with French fugi- 
tives, at Bradfield, where she seems perfectly satisfied 
with foreign forage. 

" In the fourth place, Susanna, another of them, 
sends cheering histories of herself and her tribe, 
though she concludes them with a sighing ejaculation 
of, ^ I wish I did not know there was such a country 
as France !' 

" So much for your daughters. 

" Mr. Hawkins's house is pleasantly situated, and 
all that belongs to its mistress is nearly perfect. 
Even its master is more to my gusto than I have ever 
known him before, for he is engaged in writing notes 
for answers to Paine, Mackintosh, Rouse, Priestley, 
Price, and a score more of Mr. Burke's incendiary 
antagonists. I wish to spirit him on to collect them 
into a pamphlet and give them to the public, but he 
is doubtful if it would not involve him in some heavy 
expense. I rather think the contrary, for he has real- 
ly written well, and with an animation that his style 
of conversation had not made me expect. It is im- 
possible to be under the roof of an English clergy- 
man, and to witness his powers of making leisure 
useful, elegant, and happy, without continual internal 
reference to the miserable contrast of the unhappy 
clergy of France. 

" To-day's papers teem with the promise of great 
and decisive victories to the arms of the Duke of 
Brunswick. I tremble for the dastardly revenge 



59 

menaced to the most injured King of France and his 
family. I dare hardly wish the advance and success 
of the combined armies, in the terror of such conse- 
quences. Yet the fate and future tranquillity of all 
Europe seem inevitably involved in the prosperity or 
the failure of this expedition. The depression or en- 
couragement it must give to political adventurers, 
who, at all times, can stimulate the rabble to what 
they please, will surely spread far, deep, and wide, 
according to the event of French experiments upon 
the minds, manners, and powers of men ; and the feasi- 
bility of expunging all past experience, for the pur- 
pose of treating the world as if it were created yes- 
terday, and every man, woman, and child were let 
loose to act from their immediate suggestion, with- 
out reference to what is past, or sympathy in any- 
thing that is present, or precaution for whatever is to 
come. It seems, in truth no longer the cause of 
nations alone, but of individuals , not a dispute for a 

form of government, but for a condition of safety. 

****** 

Ever and ever most dutifully and 

affectionately, your 

F. B." 

" FRroAY, October 5th. — I left Halstead, and set 
off, alone, for Bradfield Hall, which was but one stage 
of nineteen miles distant. 

" Sarah who was staying with her aunt, Mrs. 
Young, expected me, and came running out before 
the chaise stopped at the door, and Mr. Young fol- 
' wing, with both hands full of French newspapers, 
welcomed me with all his old spirit and impetuosi- 
. ; . 'claiming his house never had been so honoured 
sir;ce its foundation, nor ever could be again, unless I 
fe-visitfcJ it in my way back, even though all England 
€ame in xhe mean time ! 



60 MEMOIRS OF 

" Do you not know him well, my Susan, by this 
opening rhodomontade ? 

" ' But where,' cried he, ' is Hetty ? that Hetty ! 
Why did you not bring her with you? That won- 
derful creature ! I have half a mind to mount horse, 
and gallop to Halstead to claim her ! What is there 
there to merit her ? What kind of animals have you 
left her with 1 Anything capable of understanding 
her? 

" During this we mounted up-stairs, into the dining- 
room. Here all looked cold and comfortless, and no 
Mrs. Young appeared. I inquired for her, and heard 
that her youngest daughter. Miss Patty, had just had 
a fall from her horse, which had bruised her face, and 
occasioned much alarm. 

" The rest of the day we spoke only of French 
politics. Mr. Young is a severe penitent of his demo- 
cratic principles, and has lost even all pity for the 
Constituant Revolidionnaires, who had * taken him 
in' by their doctrines, but cured him by their prac- 
tice, and who ' ought better to have known what 
they were about before they presumed to enter into 
action.' 

" Even the Due de Liancourt, who was then in a 
small house at Bury, merited, he said, all the personal 
misfortunes that had befallen him. ' I have real obli- 
gations to him,' he added, ' and therefore I am anx- 
ious to show him any respect, and do him any ser- 
vice, in his present reverse of fortune ; but he has 
brought it all on himself, and, what is worse, on his 
country.' 

" He wrote him, however, a note to invite him to 
dinner the next day. The Duke wrote an answer, 
that he lamented excessively being engaged to meet 
Lord Euston, and dine with the Bury aldermen. 

" I must now tell you the history of this poor Duke's 
arriving in England, for it involves a revival of loy- 



Madame d'arblay. 61 

alty — an effort to make some amends to his unhappy 
sovereign for the misery into which he had largely 
contributed to plunge him~\vhich, with me, has 
made his peace for ever. 

" But first, I should tell, he was the man who 
almost compelled the every-way-deluded Louis to 
sanction the National Assembly by his presence when 
first it resisted his orders. The Queen and all her 
party were strongly against the measure, and prophe- 
sied it would be the ruin of his authority but the 
Duke, highly ambitious of fame, as Mr. Young de- 
scribes him, and willing to sacrifice everything to the 
new systems then pervading ail France, suddenly 
rushed into his closet, upon the privilege of being 
one of the five or seven Pairs de France, w^ho have 
that licence, and, with a strong and forcible eloquence, 
declared nothing but his concession would save the 
nation from a civil war ; while his entering, unarmed, 
into the National Assembly, would make him regarded 
for ever as the father and saviour of his people, and 
secure him the powerful sovereignty of the grateful 
hearts of all his subjects. 

" He succeeded, and the rest is public. 

" Certainly, he can never recollect this incident, 
with whatever good or even noble sentiments he had 
been wrought up to it, without the severest pain. 
What might have been the event of an opposite con- 
duct, no one can tell ; but it is difficult to figure to 
the most terrible imagination anything so dreadful, 
anything indeed not better than what happened. Mr. 
Young is persuaded that, but for this manoeuvre of the 
Duke, and some similar acts of his first associates, 
none of these evils w^ould have come to pass : M. de 
Calonne's conciliatory articles would have been 
agreed to by the King and the people, and the 
government gradually have been amended, and blood 
and villany have looked another way. 

2f 



62 Memoirs of 

" This incident, which I have here mentioned, has 
set all the Coblentz party utterly and for ever against 
the Duke. He had been some time in extreme 
anguish for the uuhappy King, whose ill treatment on 
the 20th of June, 1792, reached him while command- 
ant at Rouen. He then first began to see that the 
Monarch or the Jacobins must inevitably fall, and he 
could scarce support the prospect of ultimate danger 
threatening the former. I have since been told, by a 
gentleman then at Rouen, that he was never surprised 
in his room, at that period, but he was found mordant 
his fist, and in action of desperation. Ah !— well he 
might ! 

" When the news reached him of the bloody 10th 
of August, a plan which for some time he had been 
forming, of gaining over his regiment to the service 
of the King, was rendered abortive. Yet all his offi* 
cers except one had promised to join in any enters- 
prise for their insulted master. He had hoped to get 
the King to Rouen under this protection, as I gather, 
though this matter has never wholly transpired. But 
the King could not be persuaded to trust any one. 
How should he ? — especially a Revolutionnaire ? 

" No time now was to be lost, and, in his first im- 
petuosity of rage and despair, he instantly summoned 
his officers and his troops ; and, in the midst of them 
all, upon the parade or place of assembling, he took 
off his hat, and called out aloud ' Vive le Roi !' 

" His officers echoed the sound, all but one ! — yet 
not a soldier joined. Again he waved his hat, and 
louder and louder called out ' Vive le Roi !' And 
then every soldier repeated it after him. 

" Enchanted with hope, he felt one exulting mo- 
ment, when this single dissentient officer called out 
aloud, as soon as the loyal cry was over, * As an offi- 
cer of the Nation I forbid this ! — Vive la Nation!' 

" The Duke uistantly had the man arrested, and 



63 

retired to his apartment to compose his excess of agi- 
tation, and consider how to turn this promise of loyal- 
ty to the service of his now imprisoned King ; but in 
a short time, an officer strongly attached to him en- 
tered the room hastily, and cried, ' Sauvez vous, M, 
de Liancourt !—he speedy — the Jacobin party of 
Rouen have heard of your indiscretion, and a price is 
this moment set upon your head !' 

" The Duke knew too well with whom he had to 
act, for a moment's hesitation. To serve the King 
was now impossible, as he had but to appear in order 
to be massacred. He could only save his own life by 
flight. ^ 

" In what manner he effected his escape out of 
Rouen, he has never mentioned. I believe he was 
assisted by those who, remaining behind, could only 
be named to be torn in pieces for their humanity. 
The same French gentleman whom I have just men- 
tioned, M. Jamard, a French priest, tells me no 
human being knows when or how he got away, and 
none suspected him to be gone for two days. He 
went first to Abbeville ; there, for two days, he ap- 
peared everywhere, walking about in his regimentals, 
and assuming an air of having nothing to apprehend. 
This succeeded, as his indiscretion had not yet spread 
at Abbeville ; but, meanwhile, a youth whom he had 
brought up from a child, and on whose fond regard 
and respect he could rely, was employed in seeking 
him the means of passing over to England. This 
was infinitely difficult, as he was to leave France 
without any passport. 

" How he quitted Abbeville, I know not ; but he 
was in another town, near the coast, three days, still 
waiting for a safe conveyance ; and here, finding his 
danger increased greatly by delay, he went to some 
common house, without dress or equipage or servants 
that could betray him, and spent his whole time in 



64 MEMOIRS OF 

bed, under pretence of indisposition, to avoid being 
seen. 

" At length his faithful young groom succeeded ; 
and he got, at midnight, into a small boat, ^vith only 
two men. He had been taken for the King of 
France by one, who had refused to convey him ; and 
some friend, who assisted his escape, was forced to 
get him off^ at last, by holding a pistol to the head of 
his conductor, and protesting he would shoot him 
through and through, if he made further demur, or 
spoke aloud. It was dark, and midnight. 

" Both he and his groom planted themselves in the 
bottom of the boat, and were covered with fapjots, 
lest any pursuit should ensue : and thus wretchedly 
they were suffocated till they thought themselves at a 
safe distance from France. The poor youth then, 
first looking up, exclaimed, ^ Ah ! jious sommes per- 
dus I they are carrying us back to our own comitry !' 
The Duke started up ; he had the same opinion, but 
thought opposition vain; he charged him to keep 
silent and quiet ; and after another league, they 
found this, at least, a false alarm, owing merely to a 
thick fog or mist. 

" At length they landed — at Hastings, I think. The 
boatman had ,his money, and they walked on to the 
nearest public-house. The J3uke, to seem English, 
called for ' Fot Portere.^ It was brought him, and 
he drank it off' in two draughts, his drought being 
extreme ; and he called for another instantly. That 
also, without any suspicion or recollection of conse- 
quences, was as hastily swallowed ; and what ensued 
he knows not. He was intoxicated, and fell into a 
profound sleep. 

" His groom helped the people of the house to carry 
him up stairs and put him to bed. 

" How long he slept, he knows not, but he woke 
in the middle of the night without the smallest con- 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 65 

sciousness of where he was, or what had happened. 
France alone was in his head — France and its hor* 
rors, which nothing — not even Enghsh porter and in- 
toxication and sleep — could drive away. 

" He looked round the room whh amaze at first, 
and soon after with consternation. It was so unfur- 
nished, so miserable, so lighted with only one small 
bit of a candle, that it occurred to him he was in a 
'iiiaison deforce — thither conveyed in his sleep. 

" The stillne . of everything confirmed this dreadful 
idea. He arose, slipped on his clothes, and listened 
at the door. He heard no sound. He was scarce 
yet, I suppose, quite awake, for he took the candle, 
and determined to make an attempt to escape. 

" Down-stairs he crept, neither hearing nor making 
any noise ; and he found himself in a kitchen : he 
looked round, and the brightness of a shelf of pewter 
plates struck his eye ; under them were pots and ket- 
tles shining and polished. " Ah! " cried he to him- 
self, " je suis en Angleterre ! " The recollection 
came all at once at sight, of a cleanliness which, in 
these articles, he says, is never met with in France. 

" He did not escape too soon, for his first cousin, 
the good Due de la Rochefoucault, another of the first 
Revolutionnaires, was massacred the next month. 
The character he has given of this murdered relation 
is the most affecting, in praise and virtues, that can 
possibly be heard. Sarah has heard him till she 
could not keep the tears from her eyes. They had 
been eleves together, and loved each other as the ten- 
derest brothers. 

" You will be all sorry as I was myself to hear that 
every ill story of la Comtesse de Genlis was confirm- 
ed by the Duke. She was resident at Bury, when he 
arrived, with Mile. Egahte, Pamela, Henrietta Circe, 
and several others, vv^ho appeared in various ways, as 
artists, gentlemen, domestics, and equals, on various 
2f* 



66 MEMOIRS OF 

occasions. The history of their way of life is extra- 
ordinary, and not very comprehensible; probably 
owing to the many necessary difficulties which the 
new system of equality produces. 

*' The Duke accuses Madame Brulard of being a 
principal instrument of French misery. The Duke 
d'Orleans, he says, is indisputably the primary cause 
of the long and dreadful anarchy of this country, and 
Madame Brulard had an influence which as indispu- 
tably carried him on, since it did not stop him. The 
Duke adores the Duchess of Orleans, whom he de- 
scribes as one of the most amiable and exemplary 
of women ; and he declares she has not a friend who 
forbears detesting Madame Brulard, who is a woman 
of the first abilities, but of inexhaustible intrigue and 
ambition. The Due d'Orleans he has had some per- 
sonal pique with, I believe, as he had no sci'-ple to 
say that if he met him in London he should instantly 
cane him. He calls him a villain and a coward. 

" A lady of Bury, a sister of Sir Thomas Gage, 
had been very much caught by Madame Brulard, 
who had almost lived at the house of Sir Thomas. 
Upon the arrival of the Duke he was invited to Sir 
Thomas Gage's immediately ; and Miss G , cal- 
ling upon Madame Brulard, mentioned him, and ask- 
ed if she knew him ? — No, she answered, but she had 
seen him. This was innocently repeated to the Duke, 
who then, in a transport of rage, broke out with, 
' Elle m'a vu ! and is that all ? — Does she forget that 
she has spoke to me ? that she has heard me too V 
And then he related what I have written, and added, 
that when all was wearing the menacing aspect of 
anarchy, before it broke out, and before he was order- 
ed to his regiment at Rouen, he had desired an au- 
dience of Madame Brulard, for the first time, having 
been always a friend of Madame d'Orleans, and con- 
sequently her enemy. She v;as unwilling to see him, 



MADAME d'aRELAY. 67 

but he would not be refused. He then told her that 
France was upon the point of ruin, and that the Due 
d'Orleans, who had been its destruction, and ' the dis- 
grace of the Revolution,' could alone now prevent 
the impending havoc. He charged her therefore, for- 
cibly and peremptorily, to take in charge a change 
of measures, and left her with an exhortation, which 
he then flattered himself would have some chance of 
averting the coming dangers. But quickly after, she 
quitted France voluntarily, and settled in England. 
* And can she have forgotten all this V cried he. 

" I know not if this was repeated to Madame de 
Brulard ; but certain it is she quitted Bury with the 
utmost expedition. She did not even wait to pay her 
debts, and left the poor Henrietta Circe behind, as a 
sort of hostage, to prevent alarm. The creditors, 
however, finding her actually gone, entered the house, 
and poor Henrietta was terrified into hysterics. Pro- 
bably she knew not but they were Jacobins, or would 
act upon Jacobin principles. 

" Madame Brulard then sent for her, and remitted 
money, and proclaimed her intention of returning to 
Suffolk no more. 

" The Duke is now actually in her house. There 
was no other vacant that suited him so well. 

" I am much interested in Susan's account of poor 
Madame de Broglie. How terribly, I fear, all is 
proceeding in France ! I tremble at such apparent 
triumphs to such atrocious cruelty ; and though I doubt 
not these wretches will destroy one another while 
combating for superiority, they will not set about that 
crying for retribution for which justice seems to sick- 
en, till they have first utterly annihilated all manner 
of people, better, softer, or more human than them- 
selves. 

" The Duke accepted the invitation for to-day, and 
came early on horseback. He had just been able to 



68 MEMOIRS OF 

get over some two or three of his horses from France. 
He has since, I hear, been forced to sell them. 

" Mrs. Young was not able to appear; Mr. Young 
came to my room-door to beg I would waste no time ; 
Sarah and I, therefore, proceeded to the drawing- 
room. 

" The Duke was playing with a favourite dog — the 
thing probably the most dear to him in England ; for 
it was just brought him over by his faithful groom, 
whom he had sent back upon business to his son. 

" He is very tall, and, were his figure less, would 
be too fat, but all is in proportion. His face, which is 
very handsome, though not critically so, has rather a 
haughty expression when left to itself, but becomes 
soft and spirited in turn, according to whom he s^^eaks, 
and has great play and variety. His deportment is 
quite noble, and in a style to announce conscious rank 
even to the most sedulous equaliser. His carriage is 
peculiarly upright, and his person uncommonly well 
made. His manners are such as only admit of com- 
parison with what we have read, not what we have 
seen ; for he has all the air of a man who could wish 
to lord over men, but to cast himself at the feet of 
women. 

" He was in mourning for his barbarously-murdered 
cousin, the Due de la Rochefoucault. His first ad- 
dress was of the highest style. I shall not attempt to 
recollect his words, but they were most elegantly 
expressive of his satisfaction in a meeting he had long, 
he said, desired. 

" With Sarah he then shook hands. She had been 
his interpretess here on his arrival, and he seems to 
have conceived a real kindness for her ; an honour of 
which she is extremely sensible, and with reason. 

" A little general talk ensued, and he made a point 
of curing Sarah of being afraid of his dog. He made 
no secret of thinking it aflfectation, and never rested 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 69 

till he had conquered it completely. I saw here, in 
the midst of all that at first so powerfully struck me, 
of dignity, importance, and high-breeding, a true 
French polisson ; for he called the dog round her, 
made it jump on her shoulder, and amused himself as 
in England only a school-boy or a professed fox-hunter 
would have dreamt of doing. 

" This, however, recovered me to a little ease, 
which his compliment had rather overset. Mr. Young 
hung back, nearly quite silent. Sarah was quiet 
when reconciled to the dog, or, rather, subdued by the 
Duke ; and then, when I thought it completely out of 
his head, he tranquilly drew a chair next mine, and 
began a sort of separate conversation, which he suf- 
fered nothing to interrupt till we were summoned to 
dinner. 

" His subject was ' Cecilia ;' and he seemed not to 
have the smallest idea I could object to discussing it, 
any more than if it had been the work of another per- 
son. 

" I answered all his demands and interrogatories with 
a degree of openness I have never answered any other 
upon this topic ; but the least hope of beguihng the 
misery of an emigre tames me. 

" Mr. Young listened with amaze, and all his ears, to 
the many particulars and elucidations which the Duke 
drew from me ; he repeatedly called out he had heard 
nothing of them before, and rejoiced he was at least 
present when they were communicated. 

" This proved, at length, an explanation to the Duke 
himself, that, the moment he understood, made him 
draw back, saying, ' Peut-etre que je suis indiscret V 
However, he soon returned to the charge ; and when 
Mr. Young made any more exclamations, he heeded 
them not : he smiled, indeed, when Sarah also affirm- 
ed he had procured accounts she had never heard be- 
fore ; but he has all the air of a man not new to any 
mark of more than common favour. 



70 MEMOIRS OF 

" At length we were called to dinner, during which 
he spoke of general things. 

The French of Mr. Young, at table, was very comic ; 
he never hesitates for a word, but puts English wher- 
ever he is at a loss, with a mock French pronuncia- 
tion. Monsieur Due, as he calls him, laughed once 
or twice, but clapped him on the back, called him un 
hrave hoinyne, and gave him instruction as well as en- 
couragement in all his blunders. 

" When the servants were gone, the Duke asked me 
if any body might write a letter to the King ? I fan- 
cy he had some personal idea of this kind. I told him 
yes, but through the hands of a Lord of the Bed-cham- 
ber, or some state officer, or a Minister. He seemed 
pensive, but said no more. 

" He inquired, however, if I had not read to the 
Queen j and seemed to wish to understand my office ; 
but here he was far more circumspect than about ' Ce- 
cilia.' He has lived so much in a Court, that he 
knew exactly how far he might inquire with the most 
scrupulous punctilio. 

" 1 found, however, he had imbibed the Jacobin no- 
tion that our beloved King was still disordered ; for, 
after some talk upon his illness, and very grave and 
proper expressions concerning the affliction and ter- 
ror it produced in the kingdom, he looked at me very 
fixedly, and, with an arching brow, said, ' Mais, Ma- 
demoiselle — apres tout — le Roi — est il bien 
gueri V 

" I gave him such assurances as he could not doubt, 
from their simplicity, which resulted from their truth. 

" Mr. Young would hardly let Sarah and me retreat ; 
however, we promised to meet soon to coffee. 

" I went away full of concern for his injuries, and 
fuller of amazement at the vivacity with which he 
bore them. 

" When at last we met in the drawing-room, I found 



71 

the Duke all altered. Mr. Young had been forced 
away by business, and was but just returned, and he 
had therefore been left a few minutes by himself; the 
effect was visible, and extremely touching. Recollec- 
tions and sorrow had retaken possession of his mind ; 
and his spirit, his vivacity, his power of rallying, were 
all at an end. He was strolling about the room with 
an air the most gloomy, and a face that looked en- 
veloped in clouds of sadness and moroseness. There 
Was nfierte almost even fierce in his air and look, as, 
wrapped in himself, he continued his walk. 

" I felt now an increasing compassion : — what must 
he not suffer when he ceases to fight w^ith his calami- 
ties ! Not to disturb him we talked with one another, 
but he soon shook himself and joined us ; though he 
could not bear to sit down, or stand a moment in a 
place. 

" Sarah spoke of Madame Brulard, and, in a little 
malice, to draw him out, said her sister knew^ her very 
well. 

" The Duke, with eyes of fire at the sound, came up 
to me : * Coniment, Mademoiselle ! vous avez connu 
cette coquine de Brulard V And then he asked me 
what I had thought of her. 

" I frankly answered that I had thought her charm- 
ing ; gay, intelligent, well-bred, well-informed, and 
amiable. 

" He instantly drew back, as if sorry he had named 
her so roughly, and looked at Sally for thus surpri- 
sing him ; but I immediately continued that I could 
now no longer think the same of her, as I could no 
longer esteem her ; but I confessed my surprise had 
been inexpressible at her duplicity. 

" He allowed that, some years ago, she might have 
a better chance than now of captivation ; for the deep- 
er she immersed in politics, the more she had forfeit* 
ed of feminine attraction, ' Ah !' he cried, ' with her 



iZ MEMOIRS OF 

talents — her knowledge — her parts— had she beefl 
modest, reserved, gentle, what a blessing might she 
have proved to her country ! but she is devoted to in- 
trigue and cabal, and proves its curse.' 

" He then spoke with great asperity against all the 
femmes de lettres now known ; he said they were com- 
monly the most disgusting of their sex, in France, by 
their arrogance, boldness, and mauvaises mcRurs. 

" I inquired if Mr. Young had shown him a letter 
from the Duke of Grafton, which he had let me read 
in the morning. It w^as to desire Mr. Young would 
acquaint him if the Due de Liancourt was still in 
Bury, and, if so, to wait upon him, in the Duke of 
Grafton's name, to solicit him to make Euston his 
atbode while in England, and to tell him that he 
should have his apartments wholly unmolested, and 
his time wholly unbroken ; that he was sensible, in 
such a situation of mind, he must covet much quiet 
and freedom from interruption and impertinence ; 
and he therefore promised that, if he would honour 
his house with his residence, it should be upon the 
same terms as if he were in an hotel — that he would 
never know if he were at home or abroad, or even in 
town or in the country ; and he hoped the Due de 
Liancourt would make no more scruple of accepting 
Such an asylum and retreat at his house than he would 
himself have done of accepting a similar one from 
the Duke in France, if the misfortunes of his own 
country had driven him to exile. 

" I was quite in love with the Duke of Grafton for 
this kmdness. The Due de Liancourt bowed to my 
question, and seemed much gratified with the invita-^ 
tion ; but I see he cannot brook obligation ; he would 
tather live in a garret, and call it his own. 

'• He told me, however, with an air of some little 
pleasurGj that he had received just such another let- 
ter from Lord Sheffield. I believe both these noble-» 



73 

men had been entertained at Liancourt some years 
ago. 

" I inquired after Madame la Duchesse, and I had 
the satisfaction to hear she was safe in Switzerland. — 
The Duke told rae she had purchased an estate there. 

" He inquired very particularly after your Juniper 
colony, and M. de Narbonne, but said he most wished 
to meet with M. d'Arblay, who was a friend and fa- 
vourite of his eldest son." 



CHAPTER VI. 

Mrs, Phillips to Miss Burney, describing the French Colony atMick- 
leham — The Chevalier d'Arblay — His Anecdotes of Lafayette — 
Madame de Stael — Her conduct during the Reign of Terror — A 
Romance of Real Life — Treatment of Latayette in Prison — 
Movement of the Emigrants — M. Talleyrand — Progress of the 
Revolution — M. de la Qhatre — His adventures and escapes. 

Mrs Phillips's journalizing letters to her sister Miss 
Burney, written at this period, as they give particu- 
lars concerning several distinguished actors and suf- 
ferers in the French Revolution, and also contain the 
earhest description of M. d'Arblay, will be accepta- 
ble to the reader. 

MRS. PHILLIPS TO MISS BURNEY. 

'' Micldeham, November, 1792. 

" It gratifies me very much that I have been able 
to interest you for our amiable and charming neigh- 
bours, -^y^.^ 

" Mrs. Lock had been so kind as to pave the way 
for my introduction to Madame de la Chatre, and car- 
ried me on Friday to Juniper Hall, where we found 
M. de Montmorency, a ci-devant due, and one who 
2q 



74 MEMOIRS OF 

gave some of the first great examples of sacrificing 
personal interest to what was then considered the 
pubUc good. I know not whether you will like him 
the better when I tell you, that from him proceeded 
the motion for the abolition of titles in France ; but 
if you do not, let me, in his excuse, tell you he was 
scarcely one-and-twenty when an enthusiastic spirit 
impelled him to this, I believe, ill-judged and mis- 
chievous act. My curiosity was greatest to see M. 
de Jaticourt, because I remembered many hvely and 
spirited speeches made by him during the time of the 
Jissemhlee Legislative, and that he was a warm de- 
fender of my favourite hero, M. Lafayette. 

" Of M. de Narbonne's abilities w^e could have no 
doubt from his speeches and letters whilst Ministre de 
la Guerre, which post he did not quit till last May. 
By his own desire he then joined Lafayette's army, 
and acted under him ; but, on the 10th of August, he 
was involved, with perhaps nearly all the most ho- 
nourable and worthy of the French nobility, accused 
as a traitor by the Jacobins, and obliged to fly from 
his country. 

" M. d'Argenson was already returned to France, 
and Madame de Broglie had set out the same day, 
November 2nd, hoping to escape the decree against 
the emigrants. 

" Madame de la Chatre received us with great po- 
liteness. She is about thirty-three ; an elegant figure, 
not pretty, but with an animated and expressive coun- 
tenance ;. very well read, pleine d^esprit, and, I think, 
very lively and charming. 

" A gentleman was with her whom Mi^s. Lock had 
not yet seen, M. d'Arblay. She introduced him, and, 
when he had quitted the room, told us he was adju- 
tant-general to M. Lafayette, marechal de camp, and 
in short the first in military rank of those who had ac- 
companied that general when he so unfortunately fell 



75 

into the hands of the Prussians ; but, not having been 
one of the AssemhUe Constituante, he was allowed, 
with four others, to proceed into Holland, and there 
M. de Narbonne WTote to him. ' Et comme il I'aime 
infiniment,' said Madame de la Chatre, * il I'a prie 
de venir vivre avec lui.' He had arrived only two 
days before. He is tall, and a good figure, with an 
open and manly countenance ; about forty, I imagine. 

" It was past twelve. However, Madame de la 
Chatre owTied she had not breakfasted — ces messieurs 
were not yet ready. A little man, who looked very 
triste indeed, in an old-fashioned suit of clothes, with 
long flaps to a waistcoat embroidered in silks no long- 
er very brilliant, sat in a corner of the room. I could 
not imagine who he was, but when he spoke was 
immediately convinced he was no Frenchman. I af- 
terwards heard he had been engaged by M. de Nar- 
bonne for a year, to teach him and all the party En- 
glish. He had had a place in some college in France 
at the beginning of the Revolution, but was now dri- 
ven out and destitute. His name is Clarke. He 
speaks English with an accent tant soit peu Scotch. 

" Madame de la Chatre, with great franchise, en- 
tered into details of her situation and embarrassment, 
whether she might venture, like Madame de Broglie,- 
to go ever to France, in which case she was dans le 
cas oH elle pouvoit toucher sa fortune immediately. 
She said she could then settle in England, and settle 
comfortably. M. de la Chatre, it seems, previous to 
his joining the King's brothers, had settled upon her 
her whole fortune. She and all her family were great 
favourers of the original Revolution ; and even at this 
moment she declares herself unable to wish the resto- 
ration of the old regime, with its tyranny and corrup- 
tions — persecuted and ruined as she and thousands 
more have been by the unhappy consequences of the 
Revolution. 



76 MEMOIRS OF 

" M. de Narbonne now came in. He seems forty, 
rather fat, but would be handsome, were it not for a 
sKght cast of one eye. He was this morning in great 
spirits. Poor man ! It was the only time I have ever 
seen him so. He came up very courteously to me, 
and begged leave de me fair e sa cour at Mickleham, 
to which I graciously assented. 

" Then came M. de Jaucourt, whom I instantly 
ifnew by Mr. Lock's description. He is far from hand- 
some, but has a very intelligent countenance, fine 
teeth, and expressive eyes. I scarce heard a word 
from him, but hked his appearance exceedingly, and 
not the less for perceiving his respectful and affec- 
tionate manner of attending to Mr. Lock ; but when 
Mr. Lock reminded us that Madame de la Chatre had 
not breakfasted, we took leave, after spending an hour, 
in a manner so pleasant and so interesting that it 
scarcely appeared ten minutes. 

"Wednesday, November 7th. — Phillips was at 
work in the parlour, and I had just stepped into the 
next room for some papers I wanted, when I heard a 
man's voice, and presently distinguished these words : 
'Je ne parle pas trop bien I'Anglois, monsieur.' I 
came forth immediately to reheve Phillips, and then 
found it was M. d'Arblay. 

" I received him de bien bon cceur, as courteously 
as I could. The adjutant of M. Lafayette, and one 
of those who proved faithful to that excellent general, 
could not but be interesting to me. I was extremely 
pleased at his coming, and more and more pleased 
with himself every moment that passed. He seems 
to me a true 7nilitairey franc et loyal — open as the 
day — warmly affectionate to his friends — intelligent, 
ready, and amusing in conversation, with a great 
share of gaiete de cceur, and, at the same time, of 
naivete and bonne foi. He was no less flattering to 
little Fanny than M. de Narbonne had been. 



MAt>AME D'arBLAY. ^7 

** We went up into the drawing-room with him, 
and met Willy on the stairs, and Norbury capered be- 
fore us ' Ah, Madame !' cried M. d'Arblay, * la jo- 
he petite maison que vous avez, et les jolis petits bo- 
tes !' looking et the children, the drawings, &c. &,c. 
He took Norbury on his lap and played with him. 
I asked him if he was he was not proud of being so 
kindly noticed by the adjutant-general of M. Lafay- 
ette ? ' Est-ce qu'il sait le nom de M. Lafayette V 
said he smiling. I said he was our hero. ' Ah ! nous 
voild done bons amis ! II n'y a pas de plus brave 
homme sur la terre !' ' Et comme on I'a traite !' cried 
L A Httle shrug and his eyes cast up was the an- 
swer. I said I was thankful to see at least one of his 
faithful friends here. I asked if M. Lafayette was al- 
lowed to write and receive letters. He said yes, but 
they were always given to him open. 

" Norbury now (still seated on his lap) took cour- 
age to whisper him, ' Were you, sir, put in prison with 
M. Lafayette V ' Oui, mon ami.' ^ And — was it 
quite dark V I was obliged, laughing, to translate 
this curious question. M. d'Arblay laughed too : ' Non, 
mon ami,' said he, * on nous a mis d'abord dans une 
assez joiie chambre— c'etoit a Nivelle.' ' Vous y etiez 
avec M. Lafayette, monsieur V ' Oui, madame, pour 
quelques jours, et puis on nous asepares.' 

" I lamented the hard fate of the former, and the 
rapid and wonderful revers he met with, after having 
been, as he well merited to be the most popular maii 
in France. This led M. d'Arblay to speak of M. de 
Narbonne, to whom I found him passionately attached. 
Upon my mentioning the sacrifices made by the French 
nobility, and by a great number of them voluntarily, 
he said no one had made more than M. de Narbonne; 
that, previous to the Revolution, he had more wealth 
and more power than almost any, except the Princes 
of the Blood. 

2g* 



78 Memoirs of 

" For himself, he mentioned his fortune and his 
income from his appointments as something immense, 
but I never remember the number of hundred thou^ 
sand livres, nor can tell what their amount is without 
some consideration. * Et me voila, madame, reduit a 
rien, hormis un peu d'argent comptant, et encore tres 
peu. Je ne sais encore ce que Narbonne pourra reti- 
rer des debris de sa fortune ; mais, quoique ce soit, 
nous le partagerons ensemble. Je ne m'en fais pas le 
moindre scrupule, puisque nous n'avons eu qu'un 
interet commun, et nous nous sommes toujours aimes 
comme freres.' 

" I wish I could paint to you the mdnily franchise 
with which these words were spoken ; but you will 
not find it difficult to believe that they raised MM. de 
Narbonne and d'Arblay very high in my estimation. 

" The next day Madame de la Chatre was so kind 
as to send me the French papers, by her son, who 
made a silent visit of about five minutes. 

" FRmAY Morning. — I sent Norbury with the French 
papers, desiring him to give them to M. d'Arblay. 
He stayed a prodigious while, and at last came back 
attended by M. de Narbonne, M. de Jaucourt, and M, 
d'Arblay. M. de Jaucourt is a delightful man — as 
comic, entertaining, unaffected, unpretending, and 
good-humoured as dear Mr. Twining, only younger, 
and not quite so black. He is a man likewise of first- 
rate abilities — M. de Narbonne says, perhaps superior 
to Vaublanc— and of very uncommon firmness and 
integrity of character. 

" The account Mr. Batt gave of the National As- 
sembly last summer agrees perfectly with that of M. 
de Jaucourt, who had the misfortune to be one of the 
deputies, and who, upon some great occasion in sup- 
port of the King and Constitution, found only twenty- 
four members who had courage to support him, 
though a far more considerable number gave him 



secretly their good wishes and prayers. It was on 
this that he regarded all hope of justice and order as 
lost, and that he gave in sa demission from the As- 
sembly. In a few days he was seized, and, sans for- 
me de proces, having lost his inviolability as a mem- 
ber, thrown into the prison of the AhhayBy where, had 
it not been for the very extraordinary and admirable 
exertions of Madame de Stael (M. Necker's daughter, 
and the Swedish ambassador's wife), he would infal- 
libly have been massacred. 

" I must here tell you that this lady, who was at 
that time seven months gone with child, was indefati- 
gable in her efforts to save every one she knew from 
this dreadful massacre. She walked daily (for car- 
riages were not allowed to pass in the streets) to the 
Hotel de Ville, and was frequently shut up for five 
hours together with the horrible wretches that com- 
posed the Comite de Surveillance^ by whom these 
murders were directed ; and by her eloquence, and the 
consideration demanded by her rank and her talentSj 
she obtained the deliverance of above twenty unfortu- 
nate prisoners, some of whom she knew but slightly." 

^ * W -TT T^ ^ tF 

" M. de Narbonne brought me two volumes of new 
* Contes Moraux,' by Marmontel, who is yet living : 
they are printed at Liege, and in this year, 1792. 
He was in very depressed spirits, I saw, and entered 
into some details of his late situation with great open^ 
ness. Though honoured by the Jacobins with the 
title of traitor, all his friends here concur in saying he 
has ever been truly constitutionnaire, that is, of the 
same party as Lafayette. Last May il donna sa de^ 
mission of the place of Ministre de la Guerre, being 
annoyed in all his proceedings by the Jacobins, and 
prevented from serving his country effectually by the 
instability of the King, for whom he nevertheless pro- 
fesses a sincere personal attachment. ' Mais il m'a 



80 MEMOIRS OF 

ete impossible de le servir — il I'a ete a tous ses meiU 
leurs amis, et par ses vertus et par ses defauts ; car — 
il le faut avouer — il ne pouvait se fier a lui-meme, el 
il etait en consequence defiant de tout le monde.' 

" Madame de la Chatre and M. de Jaucourt have 
since told me that M. de Narbonne and M. d'Arblay 
have been treated with singular ingratitude by the 
King, whom they nevertheless still loved as well as 
forgave. They likewise say he wished to get rid of 
M. de Narbonne from the Ministry, because he could 
not trust him with his projects of contre revolution. 

" M. d'Arblay w^as the officer on guard at the 
Tuileries the night on which the King, &c., escaped 
to Varennes, and ran great risk of being denounced, 
and perhaps massacred, though he had been kept in 

the most perfect ignorance of the King's intention." 

* # * * ■* * * 

" The next Sunday, November 18th, Augusta and 
Amelia came to me after church, very much grieved 
at the inhuman decrees just passed in the Convention, 
including as emigrants, with those who have taken 
arms against their country, all who have quitted it 
since last July ; and adjudging their estates to confis- 
cation, and their persons to death, should they return 
to France. 

" 'Ma'am,' said Mr. Clarke,' it reduces this family 
to nothing : all they can hope is, by the help of their 
parents and friends, to get together wherewithal to 
purchase a cottage in America, and live as they can.' 

" I was more shocked and affected by this account 
than I could very easily tell you. To complete the 
tragedy, M. de Narbonne had determined to write an 
offer — a request rather — to be allowed to appear as a 
witness in behalf of the King, upon his trial ; and M. 
d'Arblay had declared he would do the same, and 
share the fate of his friend whatever it might be. 

" On Tuesday, the 20th, I called to condole with 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 81 

our friends on these new misfortunes. Madame de la 
Chatre received me with poHteness, and even cordia- 
Hty : she told me she was a httle recovered from the 
first shock — that she should have to gather together a 
small debris of her fortune, but never enough to settle 
in England— that, in short, her paoii etait pris — that 
she must go to America. It went to my heart to hear 
her say so. Presently came in M. Girardin. He is 
son to the Marquis de Girardin d'Ermenonville, the 
friend of Rousseau, whose last days were passed, and 
whose remains are deposited, in his domain. This M. 
Girardin was a pupil of Rousseau ; he was a member 
of the Legislative Assembly, and an able opponent of 
the Jacobins. 

" It was to him that M. Merlin, apres bien de gestes 
menacans had held a pistol, in the midst of the Assem- 
bly. His father was a mad republican, and never 
satisfied with the rational spirit of patriotism that ani- 
mated M. Girardin ; who, witne^ing the distress of 
all the friends he most esteemed and honoured, and 
being himself in personal danger from the enmity of 
the Jacobins, had, as soon as the Assemblee Legislative 
broke up, quitted Paris, I believe^ firmly determined 
never to re-enter it under the present regime. 

" I was prepossessed very much in favour of this 
gentleman, from his conduct in the late Assembly and 
all we had heard of him. I confess I had not represent- 
ted him to myself as a great, fat, heavy-looking man, 
with the manners of a somewhat hard and morose 
Englishman : he is between thirty and forty, I ima- 
gine ; he had been riding as far as to the cottage Mr. 
Malthouse had mentioned to him — Pasile de Jean 
Jaques — and said it was very near this place (it is at 
the foot of Leith Hill, Mr. Lock has since told me.) 

" They then talked over the newspapers which 
were come that morning. M. de St. Just, who made 
a most fierce speech for the trial and condemnation 



82 MEMOIRS OF 

of the King, they said had before only been known 
by little madrigals, romances, and epUres tendres, pub- 
lished in the ' Almanac des Muses.' ' A cette heure,' 
said M. de Jaucourt, laughing, * c'est un fier republi- 
cain. Enfin voila I'Abbe Fouche qui prend la parole. 
Ah, mais il ne s'en tire pas mal.' ' Oui, en verite,' 
said Madame de la Chatre ; ^ il montre de Pesprit ; — 
ses raisonnmens sont tous justes ce qu'il faut pour per- 
suader la Convention.' 

" For Condorcet, in despite of his abilities, they 
feel a sovereign contempt. They spoke of his ingra- 
titude to the Due de la Rochefoucault with great dis- 
gust, and of the terrible end of that most respectable 
man, with a mixture of concern and indignation, that 
left them and us for a few minutes silent and in a 
kind of consternation. 

" It appears that there is an exception in the de- 
testable law concerning the emigrants, in favour of 
such persons as are established in other countries in 
any trade. M. de tJaucourt said, ' II me parait que 
j'ai un peu vocation pour la cuisine: je me ferai cui- 
sinier. Savez-vous ce que m'a dit ce matin notre 
cuisinier ? II me consultait sur les dangers qu'il cour- 
rerait, lai, en retournant en France.' ' Pourtant, mon- 
sieur,' il m'a dit, ' il y a une exception pour les ar- 
tistes.' ' Moi, je serai cuisinier artiste aussi.' 

" Speaking of the hard-bought liberty his country 
had gained, ' Bah !' cried M. Girardin ; ' peut-on ap- 
peler cela la liberte V ' Mais ils I'auront,' said M. de 
Jaucourt energetically, * et ce qui me fache le plus 
c'est qu'ils ne veulent pas me permettre d'en dire du 
bien ; ils ont gate la cause.' 

" M. de Narbonne delighted me by his accounts of 
M. de Lafayette, who is, I am now certain, precisely 
the character I took him to be — one whom prosperity 
could never have corrupted, and that misfortune will 
never subdue. ' An excess of bonte de cceur,' M. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 83 

d'Ai'Llay said, ' was almost the only fault he knew 
him to have.' This made him so unwilling to sus- 
pect of treachery some of those who called themselves 
his friends, that it was almost impossible to put him 
on his guard. ' II caressait ceux qui cherchaient a 
Fegorger.' 

" Tuesday, November 27th. — ^Philips and I deter- 
mined, at about half-past one, to walk to Jimipere to- 
gether. 

" M. d' Arblay received us at the door, and showed 
the most flattering degree of pleasure at our arrival. 

" We found with Madame de la Chatre another 
French gentleman, M. Sicar, who was also an officer 
of M. de Lafayette's. 

" M. de Narbonne said he hoped we would be so- 
ciable, and dine with them now and then. Madame 
de la Chatre made a speech to the same effect. * Et 
quel jour, par exemple,' said M. de Narbonne, ' feroit 
mieux qu'aujourd'hui V Madame de la Chtare took 
my hand instantly, to press in the most pleasing and 
gratifying manner imaginable this proposal ; and be- 
fore I had time to answer, M. d' Arblay, snatching up 
his hat, declared he would run and fetch the children. 

" I was obliged to entreat Phillips to bring him 
back, and entreated him to entendre raison. 

" * Mais, mais, madame,' cried M. de Narbonne, 
'ne soyez pas disgracieuse.' 

" *Je ne suis pas disgracieuse,' answered I, assez 
naivemeni, which occasioned a general comical but 
not affronting laugh : * sur ce sujet au moins,' I had the 
modesty to add. I pleaded their late hour of dinner, 
our having no carriage, and my disuse to the night 
air at this time of the year ; but M. de Narbonne said 
their cabriolet (they have no other carriage) should 
take us home,' and that there was a top to it, and 
Madame de la Chatre declared she would cover me 
well with shawls, &c. 



b4 MEMOIRS OF 

" * Aliens, aliens,' cried M. d'Arblay ; ' voila qui 
est fait, car je parie que Monsieur Phillips n'aura pas 
le courage de nous refuser.' 

" Effedivement, Monsieur Phillips was perfectly 
agreeable ; so that all my efforts were vain, and I was 
obliged to submit, in spite of various worldly scruples, 
to pass a most charmingly pleasant day. 

M. d'Arblay scampered oif for the little ones, 
whom all insisted upon having, and Philips accom- 
panied him, as it wanted I beheve almost four hours 
to their dinner-time. 

" J'eus beau dire que ce seroit une visite comme on 
n'en fait jamais. * Ce sera,' said Madame de la 
Chatre, ' ce qu'il nous faut ; ce sera une journee.' 

" Then my dress : Oh, it was imrfaite, and would 
give them all the courage to remain as they were, 
sans toilette : in short, nothing was omitted to render 
us comfortable and at our ease, and I have seldom 
passed a more pleasant day — never, I may fairly say, 
with such new acquaintance. I was only sorry M. 
de Jaucourt did not make one of the party. 

Whilst M. d'Arblay and Phillips were gone, Ma- 
dame de la Chatre told me they had that morning re- 
ceived M. Necker's Defense du Roi, and if I liked it 
that M. de Narbonne would read it out to us. You 
may conceive my answer. It is a most eloquent pro- 
duction, and was read by M. de Narbonne with beau- 
coup d^dme. Tow^ards the end it is excessively 
touching, and his emotion was very evident, and would 
have struck and interested me had I felt no respect 
for his character before. 

I must now tell you the secret of his birth, which, 
however is, I conceive, no great secret even in Lon- 
don, as Philhps heard it at Sir Joseph Banks's. Ma- 
dame Victoire, daughter of Louis XV., was in her 
youth known to be attached to the Compte de Nar- 
bonne, father of our M. de Narbonne. The conse- 



quence of this attachment was such as to oblige her 
to a temporary retirement, under the pretence of in- 
disposition ; during which time la Comtesse de Nar- 
bonne, who was one of her attendants, not only con- 
cealed her own chagrin, but was the means of pre- 
serving her husband from a dangerous situation, and 
the Princess from disgrace. She declared herself with. 
child, and, in short, arranged all so well as to seem 
the mother of her husband's son ; though the truth 
was immediately suspected, and rumoured about the 
Court, and Madame de la Chatretold me, was known 
and familiarly spoken of by all her friends, except in 
the presence of M. de Narbonne, to whom no one 
would ceHainly venture to hint it. His father is 
dead, but la Comtesse de Narbonne, his reputed 
mother, lives, and is still an attendant on Madame 
Victoire, at Rome. M. de Narbonne's wife is like- 
wise with her, and he himself was the person fixed on 
by Mesdames to accompany them when they quitted 
France for Italy. An infant daughter was left by 
him at Paris, who is still there with some of his fami- 
ly, and whom he expressed an earnest wish to bring 
over, though the late decree may perhaps render his 
doing so impossible. He has another daughter, of 
six years old, who is with her mother at Rome, and 
whom he told me the Pope had condescended to era- 
brace. He mentioned his mother once (meaning la 
Comtesse de Narbonne) with great respect and af- 
fection. 

" How sorry I was to find that M. Sicard and M. 
d'Arblay believed the account given in the newspa- 
pers, of the very severe treatment of M. de Lafayette 
and his companions ! They added that the Prussians 
themselves were indignes at the treatment these gen- 
tlemen had received. M. Sicard, who is but just ar- 
rived from Holland, gave the same account. Would 
you believe il ? — a corporal is appointed to call to 
2h 



86 MEMOIRS OF 

them and insist on an answer every fifteen minutes, 
day and night, so that they can never have more than 
ten minutes of undisturbed sleep ! What a barbari- 
ty ! — added to this, depriving them of books, pen and 
ink, pencils, or anything whatever which might tend 
to while away their melancholy moments. I have 

been haunted by this sad account ever since. 

* * * * 

S. P. 

MRS. PHILLirS TO MISS BURNEY. 

" Deisember 16th '92. 

" Everything that is most shocking may, I fear, be 
expected for the unfortunate King of France, his 
Queen, and perhaps all that belong to him. M. 
d'Arblay said it would indeed scarce have been pos- 
sible to hope that M. de Narbonne could have es- 
caped with life, had the saiif-conduit requested been 
granted him, for attending as a witness at the King's 
trial. 

" ' Mais,' said M. d'Arblay, * il desiroit vivement de 
servir le Roi ; il y croyoit meme son honneur interes- 
se ; et pour lors — ma foi ! I'on ne craint pas la mort. 
Si j'avois espere de pouvoir etre utile au Roi, je vous 
jure que rien ne m'auroit retenu ; mais puisque I'on 
ne veut pas qu'il ait des defenseurs, et qu'enfin on a 
pousse Patrocite jusqu'a un tel exces, jamais je ne re- 
tournerai en France.' 

" ' Mais si fait,' said Mr. Lock, ^ si les choses vien- 
nent a changer V 

" ' Pardonnez moi, monsieur ; je ne vois point d'es» 
perance de tranquillite dans ma malheureuse patrie 
pendant mes jours : le peuple est tellement vitie par 
I'impunite du crime, par les desordres de tout espece, 
par le'habitude de voir couler le sang, qu'enlin, selon 
toutes les apparences, il n'y aura ni paix ni surete de 



MADAME U'ARBLAY. 07 

trente ou quarante ans a venir en France. Heureuse- 
ment pour nous,' he added more cheerfully, ' vous 
nous avez adopte, et j'espere que nous ne vous quit- 
terons plus.' 

" Speaking of M. Lafayette, and of the diatribes 
that have been published against him, he expressed 
warmly his concern and indignation, saying, his 
judgment, perhaps, had not been always infallible ; 
' mais pour ses vues, pour ses intentions, j'ose en re- 
pondre : il n'y a pas d'homme plus brave, ni plus 
veritablement honnete homme. H y a des personnes 
qui m'ont dit, et repete jusqu'a ce que j'en ai ete im- 
patiente, qu'il avoit perdu toutes les occasions de 
faire de grands coups, lorsqu'il avoit dans tout le 
royaume autant de pouvoir que Cromwell en avait de 
son tems. A la bonneheure — s'il avoit voulu etre 
Cromwell ; car il est tres vrai que, pour faire le mal, 
il en avait tout le pouvoir ; mais, pour faire le bien 
(et tout ce qu'il desiroit faire c'etoit le bien), c'etait, 
je vous jure, une toute autre difficulte. Les tems 
d'ailleurs sont infiniment changes depuis I'epoque de 
Cromwell. On ne peut plus mener des milliers 
d'hommes comme autant de troupeaux. Dans I'armee 
de M. Lafayette il y avait des volontaires innombra- 
bles, — auteurs distingues, hommes de lettres, artistes ; 
(David, par exemple, le premier de nos artistes), — 
tous voulant juger de toutes choses par euxmemes ; 
tirant de cent manieres differentes ; ayant tous leur 
parties a eux, et presque tous des fous absolument, 
criant pour la liberte et la patriotisme avec encore 
plus de fureur que les gueux et les Sans-culottes. Et 
pourtant on persiste a dire que M. Lafayette aurait 
pu les tourner de telle maniere qu'il I'aurait juge a, 
propos ! Voila comme on affirme, et comme on de- 
cide, dans ce monde !' 

"Yesterday, Saturday, December 15th, at about 
noon, I was very pleasantly surprised by a visit from 



88 MEMOIRS OF 

M. de Narbonne, who was as gracious and as pleas- 
ant as ever he could be. We talked over Marmon- 
tePs new tales, which I believe I mentioned his hav- 
ing been so good as to lend me ; he told me the 
author of them was in Paris, unhappy enough in 
seeing the state of public affairs. ' Mais pour I'inte- 
rieur de sa maison, on ne peut guere voir de bonheur 
plus parfait : a soixante ans il a su trouver une femme 
amiable de trente, qui a bien voulu I'epouser. Elle 
lui est fort attachee; et lui — il semble toujours amant, 
et toujours penetre d'une reconnaissance sans bornes 
de ce qu'elle veut bien lui permettre de respirer Pair 
de la meme chambre qu'elle. C'est un homme rem- 
pli de sentiment et de douceur.' 

"He had heard nothing new from France, but 
mentioned, with great concern, the indiscretion of the 
King, in having kept all his letters since the Revolu- 
tion ; that the papers lately discovered in the Tuile- 
ries would bring ruin and death on hundreds of his 
friends ; and that almost every one in that number 
* s'y trouvoient compliques' some way or other. A 
decree of accusation had been lance against M. Tal- 
leyrand, not for anything found from himself, but be- 
cause M. de la Porte, long since executed, and from 
whom, of course, no renseignemens or explanations 
of any kind could be gained, had written to the King 
that I'Eveque d'Autun was well disposed to serve 
him. Can there be injustice more flagrant 1 

" M. Talleyrand, it seems, had purposed returning, 
and hoped to settle his affairs in France in person, but 
now he must be content with life ; and as for his 
property (save what he may chance to have in other 
countries), he must certainly lose all. 

" Monday, December 17th, in the morning, Mr. 
and Mrs. Lock called, and with them came Madame 
de la Chatre, to take leave. 

" She now told us, perfectly in confidence, that Ma- 



MADAME d'aKBLAY. 89 

dame de Broglie had found a friend in the Mayor of 
Boulogne, that she was lodged at his house, and that 
she could answer for her (Madame de la Chatre) 
being received by him as well as she could desire (all 
this must be secret, as this good Mayor, if accused of 
harbouring or befriending des emigres^ would no doubt 
pay for it with his life.) Madame de la Chatre said, 
all her friends who had ventured upon writing to her 
entreated her not to lose the present moment to re-, 
turn, as, the three months allowed for the return ot 
those excepted in the decree once past, all hope would 
be lost for ever. Madame de Broglie, who is her 
cousin, was most excessively urgent to her to lose not 
an instant in returning. ' Vous croyez done, ma- 
dame,' said I, rather tristement, * y aller V ' Oui, 
SLirement, je Pespere ; car, sans cela, tons mes projets 
sont aneanties. Si enfin je n'y pouvois aller, je serais 
reduite a presque rien !' 

" Madame de Broglie, she said, had declared there 
would be no danger. Madame de la Chatre was put 
in spirits by this account, and the hope of becoming 
not destitute of everything ; and I tried to hope with- 
out fearing for her, and, indeed, most sincerely offer 
up my petitions for her safety. 

" Heaven prosper her ! Her courage and spirits are 
wonderful. M. de Narbonne seemed, however, full of 
apprehensions for her. M. de Jaucourt seemed to have 
better hopes ; he, even he, has now thoughts of re- 
turning, or rather his generosity compels him to think 
of it. His father has represented to him that his sis- 
ter's fortune must suffer unless he appears in France 
again; and although he had resisted every other con- 
sideration, on this he has given way. 

" In France they are now printing, by order of the 
Convention, all the letters to the King's brothers-, 
which had been seized at Verdun and in other places ; 
•amongst them were some from * le traitre Narbonn<?,^ 



90 EMOIRS OF 

m which he professed his firm and unalterable attach- 
ment to royalty, and made offers of his services to the 
Princes. 

" But the M. de Narbonne whose letters are publish- 
ed is not our M. de Narbonne, but a relation of his, a 
man of true honour, but a decided aristocrat from the 
beginning of the Revolution, who had consequently 
devoted himself to the party of the Princes. The Con- 
vention knew this perfectly, M. de Narbonne said, but 
it suited their purpose best to enter into no explana- 
tions, but to let all who were not so well informed 
conclude that ' ce traitre de Narbonne,' and ' ce- 
scelerat de Narbonne,' was the Minister, in whom 
such conduct would really have been a treachery, 
though in the real author of the letters it was the sim- 
ple result of his principles — principles which he had 
never sought to conceal. He spoke with considerable 
emotion on the subject, and said that, after all his loss- 
es and all that he had undergone, that vi^hich he felt 
most severely was the expectation of being * confondu 
avec tous les scelerats de sa malheurese patrie,' not 
only ^ de son vivant,' but by posterity.' 

"Friday, December 21st, we dined at Norbury 
Park, and met our French friends : M. d'Arblay came 
in to coffee before the other gentlemen. We had 
been talking of Madame de la Chatre, and conjectur- 
ing conjectures about her sposo : we were all curious, 
and all inclined to imagine him old, ugly, proud, aris- 
tocratic, — a kind of ancient and formal courtier ; so 
we questioned M. d'Arblay, acknowledging our curi- 
osity, and that we wished to know, enfin, if M. de la 
Chatre was ^ digne d'etre Tepoux d'une personne si 
aimable et si charraante que Madame de la Chatre.' 
He looked very drolly, scarce able to meet our eyes ; 
but at last, as he is la franchise mcme, he answered, 
^M. de la Chatre est un bon homrne — parfaitement 
bon homrne : au reste, il est brusque comme un cheval 
de carrosse.' 



91 

" We were in the midst of our coffee when St. Jean 
came forward to M. de Narbonne, and said somebody- 
wanted to speak to him. He went out of the room j 
in two minutes he returned, followed by a gentleman 
in a great-coat, whom we had never seen, and whom 
he introduced immediately to Lock by the name of M. 
de la Chatre. The appearance of M. de la Chatre 
was something like a coup de theatre ; for, despite 
our curiosity, I had no idea we should ever see him, 
thinking that nothing could detach him from the ser- 
vice of the French Princes. 

" His ahord and behaviour answered extremely well 
the idea M. d'Arblay had given us of him, who in the 
word brusque rather meant unpolished in manners 
than harsh in character. 

" He is quite old enough to be father to Madame de 
la Chatre, and, had he been presented to us as such, 
all our wonder would have been to see so little ele- 
gance in the parent of such a woman. 

" After the first introduction was over, he turned 
his back to the fire, and began, sans facG7i, a most 
confidential discourse with M. de Narbonne. They 
had not met since the beginning of the revolution, and 
having been of very different parties, it was curious 
and pleasant to see them now, in their mutual misfor- 
tunes, meet en bons amis. They rallied each other 
sur leurs disgraces very good-humouredly and comi- 
cally ; and though poor M. de la Chatre had missed 
his wife by only one day, and his son by a few hours, 
nothing seemed to give him de Phumeur. He gave 
the account of his disastrous journey since he had 
quitted the Princes, who are themselves reduced to 
great distress, and were unable to pay him his arrears : 
he said he could not get a sous from France, nor had 
done for two years. All the money he had, with his 
papers and clothes, vvere contained in a little box, 
with which he had embarked in a small boat — I could 



92 MEMOIRS OF 

not hear whence ; but the weather was tempestuous, 
and he, with nearly all the passengers, landed, and 
walked to the nearest town, leaving his box and two 
faithful servants (who had never, he said, quitted him 
since he had left France) in the boat : he had scarce 
been an hour at the auberge when news was brought 
that the boat had sunk. 

" At this, M. de Narbonne threw himself back on his 
seat, exclaiming against the hard fate which pursued 
all ses malheureux amis! 'Mais attendez done,' 
cried the good-humoured M. de la Chatre, 'je n'ai 
pas encore fini : on nous a assures que personne n'a 
peri, et que me me tout ce qu'il y avait sur le bateaux 
a ete sauve.' He said, however, that, being now in 
danger of falling into the hands of the French, he 
dared not stop for his box or servants; but, leaving a 
note of directions behind him, he proceeded incognito, 
and at length got on board a packet-boat for England, 
in which, though he found several of his countrymen 
and old acquaintance, he dared not discover himself 
till they were en pleine mer. * Et vous voyez bien 
qu'il n'y a pas de fin a mes malheureuses aventures, 
puisqu'en arrivant on m'apprend tout de suite que ma 
femme est parde hier pour la France, et Alfonse 
aujourd'hui; et Dieu sait si je le verrai, lui, d'ici a 
quarante ans !' 

" How very, very unfortunate ! We were all tru- 
ly sorry for him; however, he went on gaily 
enough, laughing at ses amis les constitutionnaires, 
and M. de Narbonne, with much more wit, and not 
less good humour, retorting back his raillery on the 
parti de Brunswick. 

" ' Eh bien,' said de M. la Chatre ; ' chacun a son 
tour ! — Vous avez ete mines les premiers — chacun a 
son tour ! — Vous avez faits une constitution qui ne 
pouvoit tenir.' 

" ' Pardon !' cried M. d'Arblay, with quickness: *on 
ne I'a pas essayee.' 



MAMME D'ARBLAY. VQ 

" ' Eh bien, elle est tombee toutefois — il n'en est plus 
question,' said M. de la Chatre ; ' et nous n'avons 
plus qu'a mourir de faim gaiement ensemble.' 

" M. de Narbonne said he had yet a few bottles of 
wine, and that he should not drink beer whilst he stay- 
ed with him. 

" M. de la Chatre mentioned the quinzaine in which 
the Princes' army had been paid up, as the most wretch- 
ed he had ever known. ' C'etoit un desespoir, une 
douleur, une detresse de tous cotes, dont vous ne pou- 
vez vous former une idee.' Of 22, 000 men who 
formed the army of the emigrants, 16, 000 were gen- 
tlemen, — men of family and fortune : all of whom were 
now, with their families, destitute. He mentioned two , 
of these who had engaged themselves lately in some 
orchestra, where they played first and second flute. — 
' lis sont, je vous jure, I'envie de toute I'armee,' said 
he ; ^ car en general nous ne pouvons rien faire que 
nous battre quand on nous en donne I'occasion.' 

" The Princes, he said, had been twice arrested for 
debt in different places— that they were now so re- 
duced that they dined, themselves, the Comte d'Ar- 
tois, children, tutors, &c.— eight or nine persons in all 
— upon one single dish ; and that they burnt de la 
chandelle, ' parceque les bougies coutoient trop cher.' 

" *Et les dames,' said M. de Narbonne, a demievoix, 
' que font elles 1 — Madame de Balby et les autres V 

*' 'Elles n'y sont plus,' said M. de la Chatres ; add- 
ing, laughing, ' C'est une reforme en tout.' 

" 1 don't know whether I need tell you the ladies 
meant were the two Princes' mistresses, who have hi- 
therto accompanied them everywhere. 
. " M. de Narbonne asked how he had been able to 
travel on, since his money and clothes had been left 
behind. 

" ' J'avoiSj' said he, ' ma bourse, bien heureusement ; 
au reste, j'ai ete oblige, en arrivant a Londres, de ma'a- 
dresser a un tailleur, car on ra'a assure a I'auberge ou 



ixi.ciai.yj'i.ixd vji: 



jetois, que dans Phabit que je portois on me montre- 
roit au doigt. Eh bien, il m'a fait le gilet que tu vois, 
ces culottes' (in a low voice, but laughing, to M. de 

Narbonne) They were, I must tell, you of the most 

common and cheap materials : but M. de Narbonne, 
interrupting him, gravely, but very good-naturedly 
said, 

" ' Eh bien ; vous pouvez aller partout comme cela 
— ici on pent aller ou I'on veut comme cela.' 

" ' Cette redingote," replied M. de la Chatre, who 

continued the whole evening in it, *il me I'a fait 

aussi. Mais pour I'habit, il n'y avoit pas moyen, 

puisque je ne voulois pas m'arreter. II m'a done — 

^ prete le sien.^ 

" ' Quoi ? le tailleur V 

" ' Oui, lui-meme : tu vois il ne va pas mal.' 

" There was something so frank and so good hu- 
moured in all this, that, added to the deplorable situa- 
tion to which he was reduced, I could almost have 
cried, though it was impossible to forbear laughing. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Miss Bumey's opinion of M. d'Arblay's speech — Execution of the 
French King — Despair of M. de Narbonne and M. d'Arblay — Saint- 
like end of Louis — Madame de Stael at Mickleham — The last mo- 
ments of the French King — His last words on the Scaffold — Three 
English letters from Madame de Stael to Miss Burney — Account 
of Madame de Stael — ^Her escape ftom massacre — Conversation of 
Talleyrand. 

We continue the extracts from Miss Burney's 
correspondence and Diary. 

" The accounts from France are thrilling. Poor 
M. d'Arblay's speech should be translated and read 
to all English imitators of French reformers. What 
a picture of the now reformed ! 



95 

" Poor M, d'Arblay's belief in perpetual banish- 
ment is dreadful : but Chabot's horrible denunciation 
of M. de Narbonne made me stop for breath as I read 
it in the papers. 

" I had fancied the letters brought for the King of 
France's trial were forgeries. One of them, certain- 
ly, to M. Boulle, had its answer dated before it was 
written. If any have been found, others will be add- 
ed, to serve any evil purposes. Still, however, I hope 
the King and his family will be saved. I cannot but 
beheve it, from all I can put together. If the Worst 
of the Jacobins hear that Fox has called him an ' un- 
fortunate Monarch,' — that Sheridan has said * his ex- 
ecution would be an act of injustice,' — and Grey, 
^ that we ought to have spared that one blast to their 
glories by earlier negotiation and an ambassador,' — 
surely the worst of these wretches will not risk losing 
their only abettors and palhators in this kingdom ? I 
mean publicly ; they have privately and individually 
their abetters and palliators in abundance still, won- 
derful as that is. 

" I am glad M. d'Arblay has joined the set at Juni- 
pere. What miserable work is this duelling, which 
I hear of among the emigrants, after such hair-breadth 
'scapes for life and existence ! — to attack one another 
on the very spot they seek for refuge from attacks ! 
It seems a sort of profanation of safety. 

" I can assure you people of all descriptions are a 
little alarmed here, at the successes so unbounded of 
the whole Jacobin tribe, which seem now spreading 
contagion over the whole surface of the earth. The 
strongest original favourers of revolutions abroad, and 
reforms at home, I see, are a little scared : they will 
not say it ; but they say they are not, uncalled upon ; 
which is a constant result of secret and involuntary 
consciousness. 

F. B." 



96 MEMOIRS OF 

MISS BURNEY TO MRS. LOCK. 

" January 8th, 1793. 

" It is quite out of my power, my dearest friends, to 
leave town before the birthday, as I must then pre- 
sent myself at the Queen's house. 

" Your French colonies are truly attractive — I am 
sure they must be so to have caught me, so substan- 
tially, fundamentally, the foe of all their proceedings 
while in power. But the Due de Liancourt taught 
me how little we can resist distress, even where self- 
incurred. M. de la Chatre, however, has my whole 
heart. I am his friend, not only upon the pleas of 
compassion due to all, but upon the firm basis of prin- 
ciple. My heart ached to read of his 22,000 fellow - 
suiferers for loyalty, original sense of duty, and a 
captive and injured master. 

" I like, too, his brusque and franc character. I 
have read the declaration of M. de Narbonne. It is 
certainly written with feeling and energy, and a good 
design ; but I do not think it becoming, nor bien/ion- 
7ieie, in a late minister and servant, at a time of 
such barbarous humiliation, to speak of the French 
King's weakness, and let him down so low, at the 
moment he is pleading in his favour. Yet something 
there is, hinting at regret for having possibly con- 
tributed to his disgrace by not helping to avert it, 
which touched me very much, from its candour, 
though it is a passage unfinished. 

" In short, what of misery can equal the misery of 
such a Revolution ?-— I am daily more and more in 
charity with all fixed governments. ' Let every one 
mend one,' as Will Chip says ; and then states, as 
well as families, may be safely reformed. I hope you 
like ' Village Politics V It makes much noise in Lon- 
don, and is suspected to be written by some capital 
author.* F. B," 

* The execution of Louis XYL 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 97 

MISS BURNEY TO DR. BURNEY. 

" Norbuiy Park, Monday, January 28th, '93, 

" My dearest Padre. — 1 have been wholly without 
spirit for writing, readings working, or even walking 
or conversing, ever since the first day of my arrival. 
The dreadful tragedy* acted in France has entirely 
absorbed me. Except the period of the illness of our 
own inestimable King, I have never been so over- 
come with grief and dismay, for any but personal and 
family calamities. O what a tragedy ! how implaca- 
ble its villany, and how severe its sorrows ! You 
know, my dearest father, how little I had believed such 
a catastrophe possible : with all the guilt and all the 
daring already shown, 1 have still thought this a height 
of enormity impracticable. And, indeed, without mih- 
tary law throughout the wretched city- it had still not 
been perpetrated. Good Heaven ! — what must have 
been the sufferings of the few unhardened in crimes 
who inhabit that city of horrors ! — if I, an English 
person, have been so deeply afflicted, thai even this 
sweet house and society — even my Susan and her 
lovely children — have beea incapable to give me any 
species of pleasure, or keep me from a desponding 
low-spiritedness, what must be the feelings of all but 
the culprits in France ? 

" M. de Narbonne and M. d'Arblay have been al- 
most annihilated : they are for ever repining that they 
are French, and, though two of the most accomplish- 
ed and elegant men I ever saw, they break our hearts 
with the humiliation they feel for their guiltless birth 
in that guilty country ! — ' Est-ce vrai,' cries M. de 

* " Will Chip, or Village Politics," was written by Mrs. Han- 
nah More. 



98 MEMOIRS OF 

Narbonne, ' que vous conservez encore quelque amitie, 
M. Lock, pour ceux qui ont la honte et le malheur 
d'etre nes Fran9ois V — Poor man ! — he has all the 
symptoms upon hun of the jaundice ; and M. d'Arblay, 
from a very fine figure and good face, was changed, 
as if by magic, in one night, by the receipt of this in- 
expiable news, into an appearance as black, as 
meagre, and as miserable as M. de la Blancherie. 

'' We are all here expecting war every day. This 
dear family has deferred its town journey till next 
Wednesday. I have not been at all at Mickleham, 
nor yet settled w^hether to return to town with the 
Locks, or to pay my promised visit there first. All 
has been so dismal, so wretched, that I have scarce 
ceased to regret our living at such times, and not 
either sooner or later. 

"These immediate French sufferers here interest 
us, and these alone have been able to interest me at 
all. We hear of a very bad tumult in Ireland, and 
near Captain Phiihps's property ; Mr. Brabazon writes 
word it is very serious. Heaven guard us from in- 
surrections ! What must be the feelings at the 
Queen's house ? how acute, and how indignant ! 

" Adieu, most dear sir ; I am sure we sympathise 
but too completely on this subject, — 

And am ever your 
F. B.'* 

MISS BURNEY TO DR. BURNEY. 

" Norbury Park, Monday, Febraary 4th, '93. 

" How exactly do I sympathise in all you say and 
feel, my most dear sir, upon these truly calamitous 
times! I hear daily of more and more affecting accounts 
of the saint-like end of the martyred Louis. Madame 
de Stael, daughter of M. Necker, is now at the head 
of the colony of French noblesse, established near 



d9 

Mickleham. She is one of the first women I ever met 
with for abihties and extraordinary intellect. She has 
just received, by a private letter, many particulars not 
yet made public, and which the Commune and Com- 
missaries of the Temple had ordered should be sup- 
pressed. It has been exacted by those cautious men 
of blood that nothing should be printed that could at- 
tendrir le pexiple. 

" Among other circumstances, this letter relates that 
the poor little Dauphin supplicated the monsters who 
came with the decree of death to his unhappy father, 
that they would carry him to the Convention, and the 
forty-eight Sections of Paris, and suffer him to beg his 
father's life. 

" This touching request was probably suggested to 
him by his miserable mother or aunt. When the King 
left the Temple to go to the place of sacrifice, the 
cries of his wretched family were heard loud and shrill, 
through the courts without ! — Good Heaven ! what 
distress and horror equalled ever what they must then 
experience ? 

" When he arrived at the scaffold, his Confessor, as 
if with the courage of inspiration, called out to him 
aloud, after his last benediction, * Fils de Saint Louis, 
montez au ciel !' — The King ascended with firmness, 
and meant to harangue his guilty subjects ; but the 
wretch Santerre said he was not there to speak, and 
the drums drowned the words, except to those nearest 
the terrible spot. To those he was heard to say, 
' Citoyens, je raeurs innocent ! Je pardonne a mes 
assassins ; et je souhaite que ma mort soit utile a mon 
peuple.' 

" M. de Narbonne has been quite ill with the grief 
of this last enormity ; and M. d'Arblay is now indis- 
posed. This latter is one of the most delightful cha- 
racters I have ever met, for openness, probity, intel- 
lectual knowledge, and unhackneyed manners. M. de 



100 MEMOIRS OF 

Narbonne is far more a man of the world, and joins 
the most courtly refinement and elegance to the quick- 
est repartee and readiness of wit. If anything but de- 
solation and misery had brought them hither, we should 
have thought their addition to the Norbury society all 
that could be wished. They are bosom friends. 

Your F. B." 



MADAME DE STAEL HOLSTEIN TO MISS BURNEY. 
" Written from Juniper Hall, Dorking, Surrey, 1793. 

" When J learned to read english J begun by milton, 
to know all or renounce at all in once. J follow the 
same system in writing my first english letter to Miss 
burney ; after such an enterprise nothing can affright 
me. J feel for her so tender a friendship that it melts 
my admiration, inspires my heart with hope of her in- 
dulgence, and impresses me with the idea that in a 
tongue even unknown J could express sentiments so 
deeply felt. 

" my servant will return for a french answer, 
intreat miss burney to correct the words but to pre- 
serve the sense of that card. 

" best compliments to my dear protectress, Madame 
PhiUipe." 



MADAME DE STAEL HOLSTEIN TO MISS BURNEY. 

" Your card in french, my dear, has already some- 
thing of your grace in writing english : it is cecilia 
translated, my only correction is to fill the interrup- 



* As literary curiosities, the subjoined notes from Ma- 
dame de Stael have been printed verhatiyn et literatim : 
they are probably her earliest attempts at English writing. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 101 

tions of some sentences, and J put in them kindnesses 
for me. J do ot nconsult my master to write to you ; 
a fault more or less is nothing in such an occasion. 
What may be the perfect grammar of Mr. Clarke, it 
cannot establish any sort of equality between you and 
J. then J will trust with my heart alone to supply the 
deficiency, let us speak upon a grave subject : do J 
see you that morning ? What news from Captain phil- 
lip ? when do you come spend a large week in that 
house ? every question requires an exact answer ; a 
good, also, my happiness depends on it, and J have 
for pledge your honour. 

" good morrow and farewell. 

" pray madame phillips, recollecting all her know- 
ledge in french, to explain that card to you." 

MADAME DE STAEL HOL STEIN TO MISS BURNEY. 

" January, 1793. 

" Tell me, my dear, if this day is a charming one, if 
it must be a sweet epoch in my life 1 — do you come to 
dine here with your lovely sister, and do you stay 
night and day till our sad separation 1 J rejoice me 
with that hope during this week ; do not deceive my 
heart. 

" J hope that card very clear, mais, pour plus de cer- 
titude, je vous dis en franqois que votre chambre, la 
maison, les habitants de Juniper, tout est pret a rece- 
voir la premiere femme d'angleterre. 

" Janvier." 



« MISS BURNEY TO DR. BURNEY. 

" Mickleham, February 29th. 1793. 
" Have you not begun, dearest sir, to give me up as 
a lost sheep 1 Susanna's temporary widowhood, 
however, has tempted me on, and spelled me with a 
spell I know not how to break. It is long, long since 
we have passed any time so completely together ; her 
2 I* 



10^ MEMOIRS OF 

three lovely children only knit iis closer. The wid- 
owhood, however, we expect now quickly to expire, 
and I had projected my return to my dearest father for 
Wednesday next, which v;ould complete my fortnight 
here ; but some circumstances are intervening that in- 
cline me to postpone it another week. 

" Madame de Stael, daughter of M. Necker, and 
wife of the the Swedish Ambassador to France, is now 
at the head of the little French colony in this neigh- 
bourhood. M. de Stael, her husband, is at present 
suspended in his embassy, but not recalled j and it is 
yet uncertain whether the Regent Duke of Suder- 
raania will send him to Paris, during the present hor- 
rible Convention, or order him home. He is now in 
Holland, w^aiting for commands. Madame de Stael, 
however, was unsafe in Paris, though an Ambassadress, 
from the resentment owed her by the Commune, for 
having received and protected in her house various 
destined victims of the 10th August and of the 2nd 
September. She was even once stopped in her car- 
riage, which they called aristocratic, because of its 
arms and ornaments, and threatened to be murdered, 
and only saved by one of the worst wretches of the 
Convention, Tallien, who feared provoking a war with 
Sweden, from such an offence to the wifeof its Ambas- 
sador. She was obliged to have this same Tallien to 
accompany her, to save her from massacre, for some 
miles from Paris, when compelled to quit it. 

" She is a woman of the first abilities, I think, I have 
ever seen ; she is more in the style of Mrs. Thrale 
than of any other celebrated character, but she has 
infinitely more depth, and seems even a profound pol- 
itician and metaphysician. She has suffered us to hear 
some of her w^orks in MS., which are truly wonderful 
both for powers of thinking and expression. She 
adores her father, but is much alarmed at having had 
no news from him since he has heard of the massacre 



103 

of the martyred Louis ; and who can wonder it should 
have overpowered him ? 

" Ever since her arrival she has heen pressing me to 
spend some time with her hefore I return to town. She 
wanted Susan and me to pass a month with her, but 
finding that impossible, she bestowed all her entrea- 
ties upon me alone, and they are grown so urgent, 
upon my preparation for departing, and acquainting 
her my furlough of absence was over, that she not 
only insisted upon my writing to you, and telling why 
I deferred my return, but declares she will also write 
herself, to ask your permission for the visit. She ex- 
actly resembles Mrs. Thrale in the ardour and warmth 
of her temper and partialities. I find her impossible 
to resist, and therefore, if your answer to her is such as 
I conclude it must be, I shall wait upon her for a week. 
She is only a short walk from hence, at Juniper Hall. 

" There can be nothing imagined more charming 
than this colony ; between their sufferings and their 
agremens, they occupy us almost wholly. M. de Nar- 
bonne, alas, has no jSIOOO a year ! he got over only 
.£4000 at the beginning, from a most splendid fortune ; 
and, little foreseeing how all has turned oat, he ha^ 
lived, we fear, upon the principal ; for he says, if all 
remittance is withdrawn, on account of the war, he 
shall soon be as ruined as those companions of his 
misfortunes with whom as yet he has shared his little 
all. He bears the highest character for goodness, 
parts, sweetness of manners, and ready wit. You 
could not keep your heart from him if you saw him 
only for half an hour. He has not yet recovered from 
the black blow of the King's death, but he is better 
and less jaundiced ; and he has had a letter which, I 
hear, has comforted him, though at first it was almost 
heart-breaking, informing him of the unabated regard 
for him of the truly saint-like Louis. This is commu*- 
nicated in a letter from M. de Malesherbes. 
2f* 



104 MEMOIRS OF 

" M. d'Arblay is one of the most singularly inter- 
esting characters that can ever have been formed. He 
has a sincerity, a frankness, an ingenuous openness 
of nature, that I had been unjust enough to think could 
not belong to a Frenchman. With all this, which is 
his military portion, he is passionately fond of litera- 
ture, a most delicate critic in his own language, well 
versed in both Italian and German, and a very ele- 
gant poet. He has just undertaken to become my 
French master for pronunciation, and gives me long 
daily lessons in reading. Pray expect wonderful im- 
provements ! In return, I hear him in English ; and 
for his theme this evening he has been writing" an 
English address a Mr. Burney, {i. e. M. le Docteur,) 
joining in Madame de Stael's request. 

" I hope your last club was more congenial ? M. 
de Talleyrand insists on conveying this letter for you. 
He has been on a visit here, and returns again on 
Wednesday. He is a man of admirable conversation, 
quick, terse, ^71, and yet deep, to the extreme of those 
four words. They are a marvellous set for excess of 
agreeability. 

" Adieu, most dear sir. Susanna sends her best 
love, and the Fanni and Norbury kisses and sweet 
words. I beg my love to my mother, and I hope she 
continues amending. I am ever, ever, and ever, 
" My dearest Father's 
" F. B." 

MISS BURNEY TO MRS. LOCK. 

" Mickleham. 
" Your kind letter, my beloved Fredy, was most 
thankfully received, and we rejoice the house and sit- 
uation promise so much local comfort ; but I quite fear 
with you that even the has bleu will not recompense 
the loss of the Jmiiph'e society. It is indeed, of in- 
contestible superiority But you must burn this con- 



105 

fession, or my poor effigy will blaze for it. I must 
tell you a little of our proceedings, as they all relate 
to these people of a thousand. 

" M. d'Arblay came from the melancholy sight of 
departing Norbury to Mickleham, and with an air the 
most tristc, and a sound of voice quite dejected, as I 
learn from Susanna ; for I was in my heroics, and could 
not appear till the last half-hour. A headache pre- 
vented my waiting upon Madame de Stael that day, 
and obliged me to retreat soon after nine o'clock, in 
the evenmg, and my douce comjiagne would not let 
me retreat alone. We had only robed ourselves in 
looser drapery, when a violent ringing at the door 
startled us ; we hstened, and heard the voice of M. 
d'Arblay, and Jerry answering * they are gone to bed.* 
' Comment ? What V cried he : * C^est impossible f 
Vhat you say V Jerry then, to show his new education 
in this new colony, said * Mlee couchee P It rained 
furiously, and we were quite grieved, but there was 
no help. He left a book for Mile, Burnet, and word 
that Madame de Stael could not come on account of 
the bad weather. M. Ferdinand was with him, and 
hars bewailed the disaster ; and M. Sicard says he 
accompanied them till he was quite wet through his 
redingote ; but this enchanting M. d'Arblay will 
murmur at nothing. 

" The next day they all came, just as we had dined, 
for a morning visit, — Madame de Stael, M. Talley- 
rand, M. Sicard, and M. d'Arblay ; the latter then 
made insistance upon commencing my master of the 
language, and I think he will be almost as good a 
one as the little Don.* 

" M. de Talleyrand opened, at last, with infinite wit 
and capacity. Madame de Stael whispered me, * How 
do you like him V * Not very much,' I answered, 

•Mr. Clarke. 



106 MEMOIRS OF 

* but I do not know him V ' O, I assure you,' cried 

she, ' he is the best of the men.' 

" I was happy not to agree ; but I have no time 

for such minute detail till we meet. She read the 

noble tragedy of ' Tancrede' till she bhnded us all 

round. She is the most charming person, to use her 

own phrase, ' that never I saw.' " 

* * * * 

" We called yesterday noon upon Madame de Stael, 
and sat with her till three o'clock, only the little Don 
being present. She was delightful ; yet I see much 
imeasiness hanging over the whole party, from the 
terror that the war may stop all remittances. Heaven 
forbid ! 

F. B." 

MISS BUENEY TO MRS. LOCK. 

" Thursday, Mickleham. 

" I HAVE no heart not to write, and no time to write. 
I have been scholaring all day, and mastering too ; 
for our lessons are mutual, and more entertaining than 
can easily be conceived. My master of the language 
says he dreams of how much more solemnly he shall 
write to charming Mrs. Lock, after a little more prac- 
tice. Madame de Stael has written me two English 
notes, quite beautiful in ideas, and not very reprehen- 
sible in idiom. But English has nothing to do with 
elegance such as theirs — at least, little and rarely. I 
am always exposing myself to the wrath of John Bull, 
when this coterie come in competition. It is incon- 
ceivable what a convert M. de Talleyrand has made 
of me ; I think him now one of the first members, and 
one of the most charming, of this exquisite set : Su- 
sanna is as completely a proselyte. His powers of 
entertainment are astonishing, both in information 
and in raillery. We know nothing of how the rest 
of the world goes on. They are all coming to-night. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 107 

I have yet avoided, but with extreme difficulty, the 
change of abode. Madame de Stael, however, will 
not easily be parried, and how I may finally arrange 
I know not. Certainly I will not offend or hurt her, 
but otherwise I had rather be a visitor than a guest. 
" Pray tell Mr. Lock that ' the best of the men' 
grows upon us at every meeting. We dined and 
stayed till midnight at Juniper e on Tuesday, and I 
could recollect but the twentieth part of the excellent 
things that were said. Madame de Stael read us the 
opening of her work ' Sur le Bonheur ;' it seems to 
me admirable. M. de Talleyrand avowed he had met 
with nothing better thought or more ably expressed ; 
it contains the most touching allusions to their coun- 
try's calamities. 

F. B." 



CHAPTER VIIL 

Miss Burney's account of the Emi^ants written to her Father — 
Her mention of M. d'Arblay — French letter from Madame de 
Stael to Miss Barney — Juniper — M. de LalJy and .his tragedy 
— TallejTand — Gloominess of M. d'Arblay — The society at Ju- 
niper Hall, 

MISS BURNEY TO DR. BURNEY. 

Mickleham, Friday, February 22nd, '93. 

" What a kind letter is my dearest father's, and 
how kindly speedy ! yet it is too true it has given me 
very uncomfortable feelings. I am both hurt and as- 
tonished at the acrimony of malice i indeed, I believe 
all this party to merit nothing but honour, compassion, 
and praise. Madame de Stael, the daughter of M, 
Necker — the idolising daughter — of course, and even 
from the best principles, those of filial reverence, en- 
tered into the opening of the Revolution just as her 
father entered into it ; but as to her house having be- 



108 MEMOIRS OF 

come the centre of Revolutionists before the 10th of 
August, it was so only for the Constitutionalists, who, 
at that period, were not only members of the then 
established government, but the decided friends of the 
King. The aristocrats were then already banished, 
or wanderers from fear, or concealed and silent from 
cowardice; and the Jacobins — —I need not, after 
what I have already related, mention how utterly ab- 
horrent to her must be that fiend-like set. 

" The aristocrats, however, as you well observe, 
and as she has herself told me, hold the Constitution- 
alists in greater horror than the Convention itself. 
This, however, is a violence against justice which 
cannot, I hope, be lasting ; and the malignant asser- 
tion which persecute her, all of which she has lament- 
ed to us, she imputes equally to the bad and virulent 
of both these parties. 

" The intimation concerning M. de N. was, however, 
wholly new to us, and I do firmly believe it a gross 
calumny. M. de N. was of her society, which con- 
tained ten or twelve of the first people in Paris ; and, 
occasionally, almost all Paris ; she loves him even ten- 
derly, but so openly, so simply, so unaffectedly, and 
with such utter freedom from all coquetry, that, if 
they were two men, or two women, the affection could 
not, I think, be more obviously undesigning. She is 
very plain, he is very handsome ; her intellectual en- 
dowments must be with him her sole attraction. 

" M. de Talleyrand was another of her society, and 
she seems equally attached to him. M. le Viscomte 
de Montmorenci she loves, she says, as her brother : 
he is another of this bright constellation, and esteem- 
ed of excellent capacity. She says, if she continues 
in England he will certainly come, for he loves her too 
well to stay away. In short, her whole coterie live to- 
gether as brethren. Madame de la Marquise de la 
Chatre, who has lately returned to France, to endeav- 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 109 

our to obtain de quoi vivre en Angleterre, and who had 
been of this colony for two or three months since the 
10th of August, is a bosom friend of Madame de Stael 
and of all this circle : she is reckoned a very estimable 
as well as fashionable woman ; and a daughter of the 
unhappy Montmorin, who was killed on the 1st of 
September, is another of this set. Indeed, I think you 
could not spend a day with them and not see that 
their commerce is that of pure, but exalted and most 
elegant, friendship. 

" I would, nevertheless, give the world to avoid 
being a guest under their roof, now I have heard even 
the shadow of such a rumour ; and I will, if it be pos- 
sible without hurting or offending them. I have 
waived and waived acceptance almost from the mo- 
ment of Madame de Stael's arrival. I prevailed with 
her to let my letter go alone to you, and I have told 
her, with regard to your answer, that you were sensi- 
ble of the honour her kindness did me, and could not 
refuse to her request the week's furlough ; and then 
followed reasons for the compromise you pointed out, 
too diffuse for writing. As yet they have succeeded, 
though she is surprised and disappointed. She wants 
us to study French and English together, and nothing 
could to me be more desirable, but for this invidious 
report. 

" Susanna and her Captain intend going to town on 
Friday in next week, and I have fixed therefore on 
the same -day for my return; thus, at all events, the 
time cannot be long. 

" M. d'Arblay, as well as M. de Narbonne, sent 
over a declaration in favour of the poor King. M. d'A. 
had been commandant at Longwi, and had been 
named to that post by the King himself. In the ac- 
cusation of the infernals, as Sir. Young justly calls 
them, the King is accused of leaving Longwi undefend- 
ed, and a prey to the Prussians. M. d'Arblay, who 
2k 



110 MEMOIRS OF 

before that period had been promoted into the regiment 
of M. de Narbonne, and thence summoned to be Ad- 
jutant-General of Lafayette^ wrote therefore, on this 
charge, to M. de Malesherbes, and told him that the 
charge was utterly false ; that the King had taken 
every precaution for the proper preservation of Long- 
wi, and that M. d'Arblay, the King's commandant, 
had himself received a letter of thanks and approba- 
tion from Dumouriez, who said, nothing would have 
been lost had every commandant taken equal pains, 
and exerted equal bravery. 

" This original letter M. d'Arblay sent to M. Males- 
herbes, not as a vindication of himself, for he had been 
summoned from Longwi before the Prussians assailed 
it. but as a vindication of the officer appointed by the 
King, while he had yet the command. M. de Males- 
herbes wrote an answer of thanks, and said he should 
certainly make use of this information in the defence. 
However, the fear of Dumouriez, I suppose, prevented 
his being named. 

" M. d'Arblay, in quitting France with Lafayette, 
upon the deposition of the King, had only a little rea- 
dy money in his pocket, and he has been decrete since, 
and all he was worth in the world is sold and seized 
by the Convention. M. de Narbonne loves him as the 
tenderest of brothers, and, while one has a guinea in 
the world, the other will have half. ' Ah !' cried M. 
d'Arblay, upon the murder of the King, which almost 
annihilated him, ' I know not how those can exist who 
have any feelings of remorse, when I scarce can en- 
dure ray life, from the simple feeling of regret that 
ever I pronounced the word liberty in France !' 

" I confess I was much pleased with the oraisonfu- 
nehre. We hear no news here, except French, and 
see no newspapers, and not an Enghsh newsmonger* 
The Captain is just returned from Colchester. Babes 
are well. Adieu, most dear Sir ! Youx affectionate 

F. B." 



Ill 

MADAME DE STAEL TO MISS BURNEY. 

" Juniper, ce 8 Mars. 

" My dear Miss, — Pour cette fois vous me permet- 
trez de vous ecrire en Francois ; il s'agit de m'arran- 
ger pour vous voir, et je ne veux pas risquer d'equi- 
voques dans cet important interet. Mardi entre midi 
et une heure je serai a Chelsea College, avec votre 
maitre de Frangois et Mr. Clarke : tous les deux cau- 
seront ensemble, et vous — vous me parlerez. Je sais 
que vous etes pleine de bonte pour moi, et que vous 
mettez meme du courage contre la reaction de quel- 
ques mechancetes Francoises auxquelles les terns de 
guerre civile doivent accoutumer ; mais tout ce que je 
vous demande c'est m'aimer, dussiez vous attendre a 
d'autres tems pour le dire. II faut laisser Pinjustice 
aux hommes malheureux ; il faut qu'ils s'occupent des 
personnes quand ils ne peuvent rien sur les affaires ; 
il faut qu'ils donnent quelques uns de leurs preventions 
aux etrangers, qui n'ont pas le tems de juger les pro- 
ces des individus ; il faut tout ce qui est ordinaire et 
extraordinaire dans une pareille epoque, et se confier 
au tems pour Popinion publique — a Pamitie pour le 
bonheur particulier. Ils vous diront que je suis demo- 
crate, et ils oublieront que mes amis et moi nous avons 
echappe au fer des Jacobins : ils vous diront que j'aime 
passionnement les affaires, et je suis ici quand M. de 
Stael me presse d'aller a Paris, me meler avec lui des 
plus importantes (ceci pour vous seule) : enfin ils cher- 
cheront a troubler jusqu'au repos de Pamitie, et ne 
permettront pas que, fidele a mes devoirs, j'aye eu le 
besoin de partager pendant deux mois le malheur de 
celui dont j'avois sauve la vie. II y a dans tout cela 
tant d'absurdes faussetes, qu'un jour ou Pautre je ce- 
derai au desir d'en parler. Mais qui peut maintenant 
se permettre d'occuper de soi ? II n'y a pas d'idees 
generales assez vastes pour ce moment. Je suis bien 



112 MEMOIRS OF 

mal ce precepte en vous ecrivant ; mais, parceque je 
vous ai trouve la raeilleure et la plus distinguee ; par- 
cequ'avant de vous connoitre, j'ambitionnois de vous 
plaire; parceque, depuis que je vous ai vu, il m'est 
necessaire de vous interresser, je me persuade que vous 
devez m'aimer ; je crois bien aussi que voire bonte 
pour moi m'a valu quelques envieux ; ainsi il y a un 
peu de justice dans ce que vous faites pour moi. Je 
chasse toutes raes idees tristes en songeant que je vous 
verrai Mardi, et les jours suivans, chez Madame Lock 
— en pensant a votre aimable soeur Madame Phillips, 
qui, sentaiit le besoin que j'avois d'etre consolee, a ete 
doublement amiable pour moi apres votre depart. 
Repondez a ma lettre. Adieu !" 



MRS. PHILLIPS TO MRS. LOCK. 

" Mickleham, April 2nd, 1793. 
" I MUST, however, say something of Juniper, whence 
I had an irresistible invitation to dine, &c. , yesterday, 
and hear M. de Lally Tolendal read his ' Mort de 
Strafford,' which he had already recited once, and 
which Madame de Stael requested him to repeat for 
my sake. 

" I had a great curiosity to see M. de Lally. I can- 
not say that feeling was gratified by the sight of him, 
though it was satisfied, insomuch that it has left me 
without any great anxiety to see him again. He is 
the very reverse of all that my imagination had led 
me to expect in him : large, fat, with a great head, 
small nose, immense cheeks, nothing distingue in his 
manner ; and en /ait d^ esprit, and of talents in con- 
versation, so far, so very far, distant from our Junipe- 
riens, and from M. de Talleyrand, who was there, as 
I could not have conceived, his abilities as a writer 
and his geiieral reputation considered. He seems un 



maMme d^arblay. 113 

hon garcon un tres honnete gargoriy as M. Talleyrand 
says of him, et Hen de plus. 

" He is extremely absorbed by his tragedy, which he 
recites by heart, acting as well as declaiming with 
great energy, though seated, as Le Texier is. He 
seemed, previous to the performance, occupied com- 
pletely by it, except while the dinner lasted, which he 
did not neglect ; but he was continually reciting to 
himself till we sat down to table, and afterwards be* 
tween the courses. 

" M. Talleyrand seemed much struck with his piece^ 
which appears to me to have very fine lines and pas- 
sages in it, but which, altogether, interested me but lit- 
tle. I confess, indeed, the violence ofsesgestes, and the 
alternate howling and thundering of his voice in de- 
claiming, fatigued me excessively. If our Fanny had 
been present, I am afraid I should many times have 
been affected as one does not expect to be at a tra- 
gedy. 

" We sat down at seven to dinner, and had half 
finished before M. d'Arblay appeared, though repeat- 
edly sent for ; he was profoundly grave and silent, 
and disappeared after the dinner, which was very 
gay. He was sent for, after coffee and Norbury 
Were gone, several times, that the tragedy might be 
begun ; and at last Madame de S. impatiently propos- 
ed beginning without him. ' Mais cela lui fera de la 
peine,' saidM. d'Autun (Talleyrand), good naturedly; 
and, as she persisted, he rose up and limped out of 
the room to fetch him : he succeeded in bringing him. 

" M. Malouet has left them. La Princesse d^Heniii 
is a very pleasing, well-bred woman : she left Juniper 
the next morning with M. de Lally. 



2k* 



114 MEMOIRS OF 

MRS. PHILLIPS TO MISS BURNEY. 

" Mickleham A^ril 3d. 

*' A FTER I had sent off my letter to you on Monday 
I walked on to Juniper, and entered at the same mo- 
ment with Mr. Jenkinson and his attorney — a man 
whose figure strongly resembles some of Hogarth's 
most ill-looking pi ; sonages, and who appeared to me to 
be brought as a kind of spy, or witness of ail that was 
passing. I would have retreated, fearing to interrupt 
business, but I was surrounded, and pressed to stay, 
by Madame de Stael with great empressement, and 
with much kindness by M. d'Arblay and all the rest, 
Mr. Clarke was the spokesman, and acquitted himself 
with great dignity and moderation ; Madame de S. 
now and then came forth with a little coquetterie pour 
adoucir ce sauvage Jenkinson. ' What will you, Mr. 
Jenkinson ? tell to me, what will you V M. de Nar- 
bonne, somewhat indigne de la mauvaise foi, and 
excede des longueurs de son adversaire, was not quite 
so gentle with him, and I was glad to perceive that 
he meant to resist, in some degree at least, the exor- 
bitant demands of his landlord. 

" Madame de Stael was very gay, and M. de Tal- 
leyrand was comique, this evening ; he criticised, 
amongst other things, her reading of prose, with great 
sangfroid : ' Vous lisez tres mal la prose ; vous avez 
un chant en lisant, une cadence, et puis une monotonie, 
qui n'est pas bien du tout : en vous ecoutant on croit 
toujours entendre des vers, et cela a un fort mauvais 
eiTet !' 

" They talked over a number of their friends and 
acquaintance with the utmost unreserve, and some- 
times with the most comic humour imaginable, — M. 
de Lally, M. de Lafayette, la Princesse d'Henin, la 
Princesse de Poix, and M. Guibert, an author, and 



Madame d'arblay. 11§ 

one who was, Madame de S. told me, passionately in 
love with her before she married, and innumerable 
others. 

" M. d'Arblay had been employed almost night 
and day since he came from London in writing a 
Memoire, which Mr. Villiers had wished to have, 
upon the ' Artillerie a Cheval,' and he had not con- 
cluded it till this morning. " 

MRS. PHILLIPS TO MISS BURNEY. 

" Tuesday, May 14th. 

" Trusting to the kindness of chance, I begin at 
the top of my paper. Our Juniperians went to see 
Paine's Hili yesterday, and had the good-nature to 
take my Httle happy Norbury. In the evening came 

Miss F to show me a circular letter, sent by the 

Aichbishop of Canterbury to all the parishes in Eng- 
land, authorising the ministers of those parishes to 
raise a subscription for the unfortunate French clergy. 
She talked of our neighbours, and very shortly and 
abruptly said, ' So, Mrs. Phillips we hear you are to 
have Mr. Norbone and the other French company to 
live with you — -Pray is it so?' 

" I was, I confess, a little startled at this plain in- 
quiry, but answered as composedly as I could, setting 
out with informing this bete pcrsonnage that Madame 
de Stael was going to Switzerland to join her hus- 
band and family in a few days, and that of all the 
French company none would remain but M. de Nar- 
bonne and M. d'Arblay, for whom the Captain and 
myself entertained a real friendship and esteem, and 
whom he had begged to make our house their own 
for a short time, as the impositions they had had to 
support from their servants, &c., and the failure of 
their remittances from abroad, had obliged them to 
resolve on breaking up housekeeping. 



116 MEMOIRS OF 

" I had scarcely said thus much when ouf party ar- 
rived from Paine's Hill ; the young lady, though she 
had drunk tea, was so obliging as to give us her com- 
pany for near two hours, and made a curious attack 
on M. de N., upon the first pause, in wretched French, 
though we had before, all of us, talked no other lan- 
guage than English : — ■ ^ Je vous prie, M. Gnawbone, 
comment se porte la Reine V 

" Her pronunciation was such that I thought his 
understanding her miraculous : however, he did guess 
her meaning, and answered with all his accustomed 
douceur and politeness, that he hoped well, but had 
no means but general ones of information. 

" * I believe,' said she afterwards, * nobody was so 
hurt at the King's death as my papa ! he couldn't ride 
on horseback the next day !' 

" She then told M. de Narbonne some anecdotes 
(very new to him, no doubt), which she had read in 
the newspapers, of the Convention ; and then spoke 
of M. Egalite. ' I hope,' said she, flinging out her 
arms with great violence, 'he'll come to be gully tined. 
He showed the king how he liked to be gullytined, so 
now I hoped he'll be gullytined himself ! — So shocks 
ing ! to give his vote against his own nephew !' 

"If the subject of her vehemence and blunders had 
been less just or less melancholy, I know not how I 
should have kept my face in order. 

" Our evening was very pleasant when she w^as gone. 
Madame de Stael is, with all her wildne^ss and blem- 
ishes, a delightful companion, and M. deN. rises upon 
me in esteem and affection every time I see him : their 
minds in some points ought to be exchanged, for he 
is as delicate as a really feminine woman, and evident- 
ly suffers when he sees her setting les beinseances 
aside, as it often enough befalls her to dc. 

" Poor Madame dc Stael has been greatly disap- 
pointed and hurt by the failure of the friendship and 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 117 

intercourse she had wished to maintain with you, — 
of that I am sure ; I fear, too, she is on the point of 
being offended. I am not likely to be her confidante 
if she is so, and only judge from the nature of things, 
and from her character, and a kind of depit in her 
manner once or twice in speaking of you. She asked 
me if you would accompany Mrs. Lock back into the 
country ? I answered that my father would not wish 
to lose you for so long a time at once, as you had been 
absent from him as a nurse so many days. 

" After a little pause, ^ Mais est-ce qu'une femme est 
en tutelle pour la vie dans ce pays V she said. * II me 
paroit que votre sceur est comme une demoiselle de 
quatorze ans.' 

" I did not oppose this idea, but enlarged rather on 
the constraints laid upon females, some very unneces- 
sarily, in England, — hoping to lessen her depit ; it 
continued, however, visible in her countenance, though 
she did not express it in words. 

" I must go back to Monday, to tell you something 
that passed which struck and affected me very much. 
M. du Talleyrand arrived at Juniper to dinner, and 
Madame de Stael, in a state of the most vehement im- 
patience for news, would scarce give him time to 
breathe between her questions , and when she had 
heard all he could tell her, she was equally impetuous 
to hear all his conjectures. She was evidently elated 
with hopes of such success as would give peace, secu- 
rity, and happiness to them all, yet scarce dared to 
give way to all her flattering expectations. 

" M. de Talleyrand's hopes were alive likewise, 
though he did not, like her, lose his composure and 
comic placidness of manner. 

' Madame de Stael, between jest and earnest, re- 
proached M. de Narbonne with a number of aristo- 
cratic sentiments, which she said had that day escaped 
him. He calmly declared he was willing to repeat 



118 MEMOIRS OF 

and support every word he had uttered. She next 
reproached him for always resisting her passion for 
conjectural discussions. He said, he had for the last 
half year found every one baffled in making conjec- 
tures : ' Mais,' said he, very gravely, and in a man- 
ner much impressed, ' dans huit jours d'ici il me paroit 
qu'on pourra voir assez clair pour former un plan 5 et 
alors — je prendrai mon parti.' 

" He said no more, but dropped into a very deep re- 
verie. ^ Pour prendre un parti,' said M. de Talleyrand, 
' il faut d'abord savoir si celui qui nous conviendroit 
sera asez fort pour justifier I'esperance de success sans 
quoi il y auroit de folic a se meler de la partie. Mais 
pour moi,' continued he, laughing, * j'ai grande envie 
de me battre, je vous I'avoue.' 

" ' Ah, mais, sans doute,' said Madame de Stael, 
' dans une situation desesperee comme la votre, il faut 
bien que vous ayiez le besoin de faire des efforts.' 

" ' Vous le sentez,' said M. de N., with sadness, 
* parceque vous n'avez pas vecu a Juniper, proche de 
Norbury et de Madame Philippe — parceque vous avez 
vecu en Woodstock Street.' 

" ^ Mais,' said M. de Talleyrand, * je vous donne ma 
parole que ce me seroit un plaisir de bien battre tons 
ces vilains gueux.' 

"' Eh,non,' said M. deN., with a mixture of douceur 
and sadness which was very touching, ' dites moi done 
le plaisir qu'il y auroit a donner la mort a ces pauvres 
miserablcs, dont I'ignorance et la betise out ete les 
plus grands crimes. S'il falloit ne faire la guerre que 
contre Marat, et Danton, et Robespierre, et M. Egalite, 
et quelques centaines d'autres infames scelerats, j'y 
pourrai peut-etre trouver de la satisfaction aussi.' 

" After this he again fell into his reverie, and the 
conversation was supported by Madame de Stael and 
M. de Talleyrand, who, by the way is going to sell all 
his books, and who very placidly said to-day, ^ Je 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 119 

vais qn liter ma maison de Woodstock Street : elle est 
trop chere.' 

S. P." 



CHAPTER IX. 

Offer of marriage from General d'Arblay to Miss Burney — Miss 
Burney retire? to Chesington to reflect upon the course she should 
take — Madame de Staei's work ou '' The Influence of the Pas- 
sions" — Madame de Stael's parting with Mrs. Lock — A slight mis- 
understanding — Miss Barney's letter to Mrs. Phillips concerning 
M. d'Arblay ar.d his offer — Dr. Burney to Miss Burney — Dr. Bur- 
ney, after many objections, consents to Miss Burney's union Avilh 
M, d'Arblay. — Miss Burney's memorandum of her union — Cor- 
respondence — Character of M. d'Arblay. 

[The frequency and intimacy with which Miss Bur- 
ney and M. d'Arblay now met, ripened into attach- 
ment the high esteem which each felt for the other ; 
and after many struggles and scruples, occasioned 
by his reduced circumstances and clouded prospects, 
M. d'Arblay .wrote her an offer of his hand ; candidly 
acknowledging, however, the slight hope he enter- 
tained of ever recovering the fortune he had lost by 
the Revolution. 

At this time Miss Burney went to Chesington for 
a short period ; probably hoping that the extreme 
quiet of that place would assist her deliberations, and 
tranquilize her mind during her present perplexities.] 

MRS. PHILLIPS TO MISS BURNEY AT CHESINGTON. 

" Sunday, after church, I walked up to Norbury ; 
there unexpectedly I met with all our Juniperians, and 
listened to one of the best conversations I ever heard : 
it was on literary topics, and the chief speakers Mad- 
ame de Stael, I\T. de Talleyrand, Mr. Lock, and M. 
Dumout, a gentleman on a visit of two days at Juni- 
per, a Genevois, homme d^esprit et de lettres. I had 



120 MEMOIRS OF 

not a word beyond the first * how d'yes' with any one,i 
being obliged to run home to my abominable dinner ' 
in the midst of the discourse. 

" On Monday I went, by invitation, to Juniper to i 
dine, and before I came away at night a letter arrived 
express to Madame de Stael. On reading it, the 
change in her countenance made me guess the con- 
tents. It was from the Swedish gentleman who had 
been appointed by her husband to meet her at Ostend ; 
he wrote from that place that he was awaiting her 
arrival. She had designed walking home with us by 
moonlight, but her spirits were too much oppressed to 
enable her to keep this intention. 

" M. d'Arblay walked home with Phillips and me. 
every moment of his time has been given of Jate to 
transcribing a MS. work of Madame de Stael, on 
' L'Influence des Passions.' It is a work of consider- 
able length, and written in a hand the most difficult 
possible to decipher. 

^' On Tuesday we all met again at Norbury, where 
we spent the day. Madame de Stael could not rally 
her spirits at all, and seemed like one torn from all 
that was dear to her. I was truly concerned. 

" After giving me a variety of charges, or rather 
entreaties to watch and attend to the health, spirits, 
and affairs of the friends she was leaving, she said to 
me, ' Et dites a Mile, Burney que je ne lui en veux 
pas du tout — que je quitte le pays Paimant bien sin- 
cerement, et sans rancune.' 

" I assured her earnestly, and with more words than 
I have room to insert, not only of your admiration, 
but affection, and sensibility of her worth, and chagrin 
at seeing no more of her. I hope I exceeded not your 
wishes ; mais il rCy avoit pas moyen de resister. 

" She seemed pleased, and said, * Vous etes bien 
bonne de me dire cela,' but in a low and faint voice, 
and dropped the subject. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 121 

" Before we took leave, M. d' Arblay was already- 
gone, meaning to finish transcribing her MS. I came 
home with Madame de Stael and M. de Narbonne. 
The former actually sobbed in saying farewell to Mrs. 
Lock, and half way down the hill ; her parting from 
me was likewise very tender and flattering. 

" I determined, however, to see her again, and met 
her ntar the school, on Wednesday morning, with a 
short note and a little offering which I was irresistibly 
tempted to make her. She could not speak to me, 
but kissed her hand with a very speaking and touch- 
ing expression of countenance. 

" It was this morning, and just as I was setting out to 
meet her, that Skilton arrived from Chesington. I 
wrote a little, walked out, and returned to finish as I 
could. 

" At dinner came our Tio — very bad indeed. After 
it we walked together with the children to Norbury ; 
but little Fanny was so well pleased with his society, 
that it was impossible to get a word on any particular 
subject. I, however, upon his venturing to question 
me, whereabouts wasihe campagne ouse trouvoit Mile, 
Burnet, ventured de mon cote to speak the name of 
Chesington and give a little account of its inhabitants, 
the early love we had for the spot, our excellent Mr. 
Crisp, and your good and kind hostesses. 

" He listened with much interest and pleasure, and 
said, 'Mais, ne pourroit-on pas faire ce petit voy- 
age-la V 

" I ventured to say nothing encouraging, at least 
decisively, in a great measure upon the children's ac- 
count, lest they should repeat ; and, moreover, your 
little namesake seemed to me surprisingly attentive 
and hieillee, as if elk se doutoit de quelque chose. 

" vVhen we came home I gave our Tio some paper 
to write to you ; and it was not possible for me to add 
more than the address, much as I wished it.^^ 

2 



122 MEMOIRS OF 

MISS BURNEY TO MRS. LOCK. 

« Chesington, 1793. 

" I have "been quite enchanted to-day by my dear 
Susan's intelligence that my three convalescents walk- 
ed to the wood. ¥;ould I had been there to meet and 
receive them. 

" I have regretted excessively the finishing so mis- 
erably an acquaintance begun with so much spirit and 
pleasure, and the depit I fear Madame de Stael must 
have experienced. 1 wish the world would take more 
care of itself, and less of its neighbours. I should 
have been very safe, I trust, without such flights, and 
distances, and breaches. But there seemed an abso- 
lute resolution formed to crush this acquaintance, and 
compel me to appear its wilful renouncer. All I did 
also to clear the matter, and soften to Madame de Stael 
any pique or displeasure, unfortunately served only to 
increase both. Had I understood her disposition bet- 
ter, I should certainly have attempted no palliation, 
for I rather offended her pride than mollified her wrath. 
Yet I followed the golden rule, for how much should 
I prefer any acknowledgment of regret at such an 
apparent change, from any one I esteemed, to a seem- 
ing unconscious complacency in an unexplained ca- 
price ! 

" 1 am vexed, however, very much vexed, at the 
whole business. I hope she left Norbury Park with 
full satisfaction in its steady and more comfortable con- 
nection. I fear mine will pass for only a fashionable 
one. 

" Miss Kitty Cooke still amuses me very much by 
her incomparable dialect ; and by her kindness and 
friendUness I am taken the best care of imaginable- 

" My poor brother, who will cany this to Mickie- 
ham, is s^rievously altered by the loss of his little girl. 
It has affected his spirits and his health, anr he if 
grown so thin and meagre, that he looks ten ycaiv 



123 

older than when I saw him last. I hope he will now 
revive, since the blow is over ; but it has been a -very 
hard one, after such earnest pains to escape. 

" Did the wood look beautiful ? I have figured it 
to myself with the three dear convalescents wander- 
ing in its winding paths, and inhaling its freshness 
and salubrity, ever since I heard of this walk. I want- 
ed prodigiously to have issued forth from some little 
green recess to have hailed your return. I hope Mr. 
Lock had the pleasure of this sight. Is Jenny capa- 
ble of such a mounting journey ? 

" Do you know anything of a certain young lady, 
who eludes all my inquiries, famous for having eight 
sisters, all of uncommon talents 1 I had formerly some 
intercourse with her, and she used to promise she 
would renew it whenever I pleased ; but whether she 
is offended that I have shghted her offers so long, or 
whether she is fickle or only whimsical, I know not : 
all that is quite undoubted is, that she has concealed 
herself so effectually from my researches, that I might 
as well look for justice and clemency in the French 
Convention, as for this former friend in the plains and 
lanes of Chesington, where, erst, she met me whether 
I would or no. 

F. B." 

MISS BURNEY TO MRS. PHILLIPS. 

" Friday, May 31st, Chesington. 

" My heart so smites me this morning with making 
no answer to all I have been requested to weigh and 
decide, that I feel I cannot with any ease return to 
town without at least complying with one demand, 
which first, at parting yesterday, brought me to write 
fully to you, my Susan, if I could not elsewhere to 
my satisfaction. 

" Much indeed in the course of last night and this 
morning has occurred to me, that now renders my 
longer silence as to prospects and proceedings unjus- 



124 MEMOIRS OF 

tifiable to myself. I will therefore now address my- 
self to both my beloved confidants, and open to them 
all my thoughts, and entreat their own with equal 
plainness in return. 

*' M. d'Arblay's last three letters convince me he 
is desperately dejected when alone, and when per- 
fectly natural. It is not that he wants patience, but 
he wants rational expectation of better times ; expec- 
tation founded on something more than mere aerial 
hope, that builds one day upon what the next blasts^ 
and then has to build again, and again to be blasted. 

" What affects me the most in this situation is, that 
his time may as completely be lost as another's 
peace, by waiting for the effects of distant events, 
vague; bewildering, and remote, and quite as likely 
to lead to ill as to good. The very waiting, indeed, 
with the mind in such a state, is in itself an evil 

scarce to be recompensed. 

***** 

" My dearest Fredy, in the beginning of her know- 
ledge of this transaction, told me that Mr. Lock was 
of opinion that the 100/. per annum might do, as it 
does for many a curate. M. d'A. also most solemnly 
and affectingly declares that le simple necessaire is 
all he requires, and here, in your vicinity, would 
unhesitatingly be preferred by him to the most bril- 
liant fortune in another sejour. 

" If he can say that, what must I be not to echo 
it 1 I, who in the bosom of my own most chosen, 
most darling friends 

" I need not enter more upon this ; you all mu^t 
know that to me a crust of bread, with a little roof 
for shelter, and a fire for warmth, near you, would 
bring me to peace, to happiness, to all that my heart 
holds dear, or even in any situation could prize. I 
cannot picture such a fate with dry eyes ; all else 
but kindness and society has to me so always been 
nothing. 



126 

" With regard to my dear father, he has always 
left me to myself; I will not therefore speak to him 
w^hile thus uncertain what to decide. 

" It is certain, however, that with peace of mind 
and retirement, 1 have resources that I could bring 
forward to amend the little situation ; as well as that, 
once thus undoubtedly estabhshed and naturalized, 
M. d'A. would have claims for employment. 

"Thise reflections, with a mutual freedom from 
ambiticii, might lead to a quiet road, unbroken by the 
tortures of applications, expectations, attendance, 
disappointment, and time-wasting hopes and fears; 
if there were not apprehensions the 100/. might be 
withdrawn. I do not think it likely, but it is a risk 
too serious in its consequences to be run. M. d'A. 
protests he could not answer to himself the hazard. 

" How to ascertain this, to clear the doubt, or to 
know the fatal certainty before it should be too late, 
exceeds my powers of suggestion. His own idea, to 
WTite to the Queen, much as it has startled me, and 
wild as it seemed to me, is certainly less wild than to 
take the chance of such a blow in the dark. 

" Yet such a letter could not even reach bar. His 
very name is probably only known to her through 
myself. 

'^ In short, my dearest friends, you will think for 
me, and let me know what occurs to you, and I will 
defer any answer till I hear your opinions. 

" Heaven ever bless you ! And pray for me at this 
moment. F. B," 

DR. BURNEY TO MISS BURNEY. 

" Mny, 1793. 

" Dear Fanny, — I have for some time seen very 
plainly that you are eprise, and have been extremely 
uneasy at the discovery. You must have observed 
my silent gravity, surpassing that of mere illness and 
its consequent low spirits. I had some thoughts of 



126 MEMOIRS 03^ 

writing to Susan about it, and intended begging bet 
to do what I must now do for myself — that is, beg, 
warn, and admonish you not to entangle yourself in 
a wild and romantic attachment, which offers nothing 
in prospect but poverty and distress, with future in- 
convenience and unhappiness. M. d'Arblay is cer- 
tainly a very amiable and accomplished man, and of 
great military abilities I take for granted ; but what 
employment has he for them of which the success is 
not extremely hazardous 1 His property, whatever 
it was, has been confiscated — decrele — by the Con- 
vention; and if a counter-revolution takes place, 
unless it be exactly such a one as suits the particular 
political sect in which he enlisted, it does not seem 
likely to secure to him an establishment in France. 
And as to an establishment in England, I know the 
difficulty which very deserving natives find in pro- 
curing one, with every appearance of interest, friends, 
and probability ; and, to a foreigner, I fear the diffi- 
culty will be more than doubled. 

" As M. d'Arblay is at present circumstanced, an 
alliance with anything but a fortune sufficient for the 
support of himself and partner would be very impru- 
dent. He is a mere soldier of fortune, under great dis- 
advantages. Your income, if it was as certain as a 
freehold estate, is insufficient for the purpose ; and if the 
Queen should be displeased and withdraw her allow- 
ance, what could you do ? 

" I own that, if M. d'Arblay had an establishment 
in France sufficient for him to marry a wife with lit- 
tle or no fortune, much as I am inclined to honour and 
esteem him, I should wish to prevent you from fix- 
ing your residence there ; not merely from selfishness, 
but for your own sake. I know your love for your 
family, and know that it is reciprocal ; I therefore cannot 
help thinking that you would mutually be a loss to 
\3ach other. The friends, too, which you have here. 



MADAME L^'arBLAY. 137 

are of the highest and most desirable class. To quit 
thera, in order to make new friendships in a strange 
land, in which the generality of its inhabitants at pre- 
sent seem incapable of such virtues as friendship is- 
built upon, seems wild and visionary. 

" If M. d'Arblay had a sufficient establishment 
here for the purpose of credit and comfort, and deter- 
mined to settle here for lifcy I should certainly think 
ourselves honoured by his alliance ; but his situatiort 
is at present so very remote from all that can satisfy 
prudence, or reconcile to an affectionate father the* 
idea of a serious attachment, that I tremble for your 
heart and future happiness. M. d' Arblay must have 
lived too long in the great world to accommodate 
himself contentedly to the little ; his fate seems so in- 
timately connected v/ith that of his miserable country, 
and thnh country seems at a greater distance from- 
peace, order, and tranquillity now than it has done at 
any time since the revolution. 

" These considerations, and the uncertainty of what 
party will finally prevail make me tremble for you 
both. You see, by what I have said, that my objec- 
tions are not personal, but wholly prudential. For 
Heaven's sake, my dear Fanny, do not part with your 
heart too rapidly, or involve yourself in deep engage- 
ments which it will be difficult to dissolve ; and to the 
last degree imprudent, as things are at present cir-- 
cumstanced, to fulfil. 

" As far as character, merit, and misfortune demand 
esteem and regard, you may be sure that M. d' Arblay 
will be always received by me "with the utmost atten- 
tion and respect ; but, in the present situation of 
things, I can by no means think I ought to encourage 
(blind and ignorant as I am of all but his misfortunes):- 
a serious and solemn union with one whose unhappi- 
ness would be a reproach to the facility and incon-- 
siderateness of a most affectionate father ^" 



li^8 MEMOIRS OF 

MEMORANDUM, THIS 7TH OF MAY, 1825. 
" In answer to these apparently most just, and, un- 
doubtedly, most parental and tender apprehensions, 
Susanna, the darling child of Dr. Burney, as well as 
first chosen friend of M. d'Arblay, wrote a statement 
of the plans, and means, and purposes of M. d'A. and 
F. B. — ^^so clearly demonstrating their power of hap- 
piness, wdth willing economy, congenial tastes, and 
mutual love of the country, that Dr. B. gave way, 
and sent, though reluctantly, a consent ; by which the 
union took place the 3.1st of July, 1793, in Mickle- 
ham church, in presence of Mr. and Mrs. Lock, Cap- 
tain and Mrs. PhiUips, M. de Narbonne, and Captain 
Burney, who was father to his sister, as Mr. Lock was 
to M. d'A. ; and on the 1st of August the ceremony 
was re-performed in the Sardinian chapel, according 
to the rites of the Romish church ; and never, never 
was union more blessed and felicitous ; though, after 
the first eight years of unmingled happiness, it was 
assailed by many calamities, chiefly of separation or 
illness, yet still mentally unbroken. 

F, d'Arblay." 



TO MRS. 

"August 2nd, 1703. 

" How in the world shall I begin this letter +o my 

dearest M ! how^ save her from a surprise almost 

too strong for her weak nerves and tender heart ! 

'' After such an opening, perhaps any communica- 
tion may be a rehef ; but it is surprise only that I 
would guard against ; my present communication has 
nothing else to fear ; it has nothing in it sad, melan- 
cholly, unhappy, but it has every thing that is mar- 
vellous and unexpected. 

" Do you recollect at all, when you were last in town, 
my warm interest for the loyal part of the French ex- 



129 

iles ?- - do you remember my eloge of a French officer, 
in parLcular, a certain M. d'Arblay ? 

" Ah my dear M , you are quick as lightning ; 

your sensitive apprehension wiU tell my tale for me 
now, without any more aid than some details of cir- 
cumstance. 

" The eloge I then made, was with design to prepare 
you for ail event I had reason to expect : such, how- 
ever, was the uncertainty of my own situation, from 
prudential obstacles, that I dared venture at no con- 
fidence ; though my heart prompted it strongly, to a 
friend so sweetly sympathising m all my alfairs — so 
constantly affectionate — so tenderly alive to all that 
interests and concerns me. 

" My dearest M , you will give me, I am sure, 

your heartfelt wishes— -your most fervent prayers. 
The choice I have made appears to me all you could 
yourself wish to fall to my lot — all you could yourself 
have formed to have best accorded with your kind 
partiality. 

" I had some hope you would have seen him that 
evening we went together from Mrs. Montague to 
Mrs. Lock's, for he was then a guest in Portland- 
place ; but some miserable circumstances, of which I 
knew nothing till after your departure, had just fallen 
out, and he had shut himself up in his room. He did 
not know we were there. 

" Many, indeed, have been the miserable circum- 
stances that have, from time to time, alarmed and 
afflicted in turn, and seemed to render a renunciation 
indispensable. Those difficulties, however, have been 
conquered ; and last Sunday, Mr. and Mrs. Lock, my 
sister and Captain Phillips, and my brother Captain 
Burney, accompanied us to the altar, in Mickleham 
church ; since which the ceremony has been repeated 
in the chapel of the Sardinian Ambassador, that if, by 
a cpunter-revolution in France, M. d'Arblay recovers 



130 MEMOIRS OP 

any of his rights, his wife may not be excluded from 
their participation. 

" You may be amazed not to see the name of my 
dear father upon this solemn occasion ; but his appre- 
hensions from the smallness of our income have made 
him cold and averse ; and though he granted his con- 
sent, I could not even solicit his presence. I fee] sat- 
isfied, however, that time will convince him I have 
not been so imprudent as he now thinks me. Happi- 
ness is the great end of all our worldly views and 
proceedings, and no one can judge for another in what 
will produce it. To me wealth and ambition would 
always be unavailing ; I have lived in their most 
centrical possessions, and I have always seen that the 
happiness of the richest and the greatest has been the 
moment of retiring from riches and from power. Do- 
mestic comfort and social affection have invariably 
been the sole as well as the ultimate objects of my 
choice, and I have always been a stranger to every 
other species of felicity. 

M. d'Arblay has a taste for literature, and a pas- 
sion for reading and writing as marked as my own ; 
this is a sympathy to rob retirement of all superfluous 
leisure, and ensure to us both occupation constantly 
edifying and entertaining. He has seen so much of 
life and has suffered so severely from its disappoint- 
ments, that retreat with a chosen companion, is be- 
come his final desire. 

Mr. Locke has given M. d'Arblay a piece of ground 
in his beautiful park, upon which we shall build a 
neat and plain habitation. We shall continue, mean- 
while, in his neighbourhood, to superintend the lit- 
tle edifice, and enjoy the society of his exquisite 
house, and that of my beloved sister Phillips. We 
are now within two miles of both, at a farm-house, 
where we have what apartments we require, and no 
more, in a most beautiful and healthy situation, a mile 



131 

and a half from any town. The nearest is Bookham ; 
but I beg that my letters may be directed to me at 
Captain Phillips's, Micklcham, as the post does not 
come this way, ^rA I may else miss them for a week. 

" As I do not correspond with Mrs. Montague, and 
it would be awkward to begin upon such a theme, I 
beg that when you write you will say something for 
me. 

" One of my first pleasures, in our little intended 
home, will be finding a place of honour for the legacy 
of Mrs. Del any. Whatever may be the general won- 
der, and perhaps blame of general people, at this con- 
nexion, equally indiscreet in pecuniary points for us 
both, I feel sure that the truly liberal and truly intel- 
lectual judgment of that most venerated character 
would have accorded its sanction, when acquainted 
with the worthiness of the object who would wish it. 

Adieu, my sweet friend. Give my best compli- 
ments to Mr. — — , and give me your kind wishes, 

your kind prayers, my ever dear M . " 

F. d'A." 

MADAME DE STAEL TO MADAME D'AltBLAY. 

" Copet, 9 Aout, 1793. 

" On me dit une nouvelle qui me fait un extreme 
plaisir. II appartenoit a votre cceur de sentir tout le 
prix de I'heroique conduite de notre excellent ami, et 
de justifier le sort en vous donnant a lui, en assurant 
ainsi a sa vertu la recompense que Dieu lui permet sur 
cette terre A present que vous etes un peu de ma 
famille, j'espere que si je revenois en Angleterre, je 
vous verrois tant que je voudrois, c'est a dire, sans 
cesse : tous mes regrets, comme toutes mes esperances, 
me ramenent en Surrey. C'est-la le paradis terrestre 
pour moi — ce le sera pour vous, je I'espere. Je ne 
connois pas un caractere meilleur a vivre que M. d'Ar- 
bl^ay, et je sais depuis long-tems combien il vous aime. 



.132 MEMOIRS OF 

Vous nous devez a present de beaucoup ecrire. Je 
voas demande de m'informer de vos projets, de me 
confier votre bonheur ; et si je trouve jamais une ma- 
niere de vous servir, de disposer de moi comme d'un 
bien a vous. Adieu, adieu ! '' 

COMTE DE LALLY TOLENDAL TO THE CHEVALIER 
D'ARBLAY. 

" Twickenham, 9 Aout, 1793. 

" Je m'etais plaint de vous, mon cher D'Arblay, et 
puis par reflection j'avais trouve que vous faisiez bien 
mieux de goiiter votre bonheur que de le decrire. 
L' amour vous a permis de consacrer un instant a I'a- 
mitie, et je viens vous demander encore un pour ma 
reconnoisance, et pour I'expression des voeux les plus 
ardens qui aient jamais ete foimespour votre bonheur, 
et pour celui de I'etre si interessant qui vient de dou- 
bler le votre. Vous m'otez un bien bon argument 
dans mes disputes politiques. ' Citez-moi,' disais-je 
toujours, avec une assurance imperturbable, ' un hom- 
me qui ait gagne a revolution.' 

"Au moins, ne porterai-je plus ce defi dans les 
environs de Mickleham. Les qrages vous ont conduit 
dans un port qui vaut mieux que la rive natale, et les 
demons vous ont precipite aux pieds d'un ange qui 
vous a releve. Votre roman vaut celui de Miss Bur- 
ney, et vous le faites aussi heureux qu'elle les ecrit 
sublimes. Votre destine est ecrite dans ' Cecilia,' 
mon cher ami, et vous aurez autant de cautions et 
autant de jaloux que Cecilia a eu de lecteurs. Vous 
voila possedant la pratique de ce coeur dont nous 
avons tant admire et cheri la theorie, ces graces de 
Tesprit qui nous ont tant seduit, cette finesse de juge- 
ment qui nous a si fort etonnes, ces sentimens delicieux 
qui venaient remuer le fond de nos coeurs, cette pure- 
te de morale qui excitait nos respects, — tout cela vous 
etait destine ! Une si profonde connaissance du coeur 
humain devait conduire a juger le votre, a appiecier 



MADAME DARBLAY. 133 

votre noble caractere, et ce charme de loyaute qui fait 
qu'on se sent votre ami quand on a cause un jour avec 
vous. 

" Je suis sur que Miss Burney vous aura entendu 
parler du pauvre Louis XVI. avec cette emotion qui 
tirait les larmes des yeux de Malouet et des miens la 
derniere fois que nous avens chemine ensemble. Citez 
nous tant que vous voudrez, mon cher D' Arblay ; vous 
nous rendrez justice en vous adressant a nous pour 
obtenir celle qui vous est due. 

" Le jour oii j'ai regu votre lettre j'avais dine chez 
le Chancelier, et pendant une partie du diner votre 
mariage avait ete le sujet de I'entretien general. 
C'etait a moi tout naturellement a conter votre his- 
toire, et a repondre a tout ce qui etait la du sort de 
Miss Burney. J'ai rempli le devoir, je ne dirai pas 
d'ami, mais d'homme juste; c'est tout ce qu'il vous 
faut. 

" Enfit toute notre colonie n'a qu'un sentiment et 
qu'une voix. Le Prince* vous ecrit, Malouet vous 
ecrira, la Princessef se joint a tout ce que nous vous 
disons : vous connaissez son ame, vous savez qu'elle 
se reflechit dans tout Qe qui est beau et dans tout ce 
qui est bon ; vous avez vu son entrainement vers Miss 
Burney. Nous jouissons aussi de la part qu'ont eu a 
cet heureux evenement M. et Madame Lock, de celle 
qu'y prennnent M. et Madame Phillips. Tout ce que 
I'humanite peut atteindre de vertu et obtenir de bon- 
heur est au milieu de vous tous. Jouissez en long- 
temps, et que votre felicite soit aussi incorruptible que 
votre caractere ! Presentez, je vous prie, mon hora- 
mage respecteux a Madame d' Arblay, et comptez 
toujours sur moi comme sur un ami qui vous est acquis 
a jamais. 

Lally Tolendal. 

" P. S. Lorsque mon pere commandait dans I'Inde 



* Le Prince de Poix, La Princesse d'Henin. 



134 MEMOIRS OF 

il fut fort mecontent d'lin officier qui, charge d'une 
mission chez les Hollandais, en avait compromis le 
succes par la faute le plus grave. Mon pauvre pere, 
le meilleur des homines en actions, mais le plus \if en 
propos, lui ecrivet dans sa colere, ' Si vous retombez 
dans la meme faute, je vous previens, qu'eussiez vous 
la tete de mon fils sur les epaules de mon pere, je la 
ferai sauter.' 

" Comme ilfermaitsa lettre, entre son maitre d'hotel. 
' Que veux tu V ' Monsieur, je viens entendre dire 
que vous envoyez un expres chez les Hollandais, et, 
comme nous n'aurons bientut plusde cafe, je suis venu 
vous demander si vous ne voudriez pas en faire venir.' 
' Tu as raison.' Et voila que mon pere, qui ne se 
souvenait deja plus de sa colere, rouvre sa lettre et 
mande a son officier, en 'post-scriftum au dessous de la 
belle phrase ci-dessus, ' Je vous en prie, faites moi le 
plaisir de m'envoyer par le porteur un ballot de cafe.' 

" Ou tend toute cette histoire"? A justifier par 
Fexemple la disparate tout aussi forte que je vais me 
permettre. Mon laquais vient d'entrer chez moi, et 
m'a dit, * Monsieur, on dit me vous ecrivez a Mickle- 
ham : la derniere fois que vous y avez ete vous avez 
oublie un bonnet de nuit et une paire de petites bottes : 
si vous vouliez bien les demander V Soit ; et voila 
que je termine une epithalame en priant I'epoux de 
vouloir bien donner des ordres, je ne sais pas a qui, 
afin que ces petites bottes me soient renvoyes a Lon- 
dres, Norton-street, No. 17. Ou se cache-t-on quand 
on ecrit de ces choses-la 1" 

MADAME DE LA FITE TO MADAME D'ARBLAY. 

"September, 1793. 

" Combien vous etes amiable, ma chere madame, 
et que votre lettre est charmante ! Je vous remercie 
et du plaisir qu'elle m'a fait, et de celui qu'elle a pro- 
cure a la famille de Luc, et a trois de nos Princesses 
a qui je I'ai communiquee. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 135 

•* J'ai su depuis que cette lettre, montree a la Reinej 
est encore dans la poche de sa Majeste. Votre change- 
ment d'etat faisait la nouvelle du jour, et j'avais un 
merite alors ; moi seule dans toute le comte de Berk- 
shire avoit Tavantage de connoitre M. d'Arblay. 

Miss P entr' autres m'accabla de questions : 

* Est-il grand ? est-ilbeau? est-il jeune?' Je parlai 
de son air noble, et d'une impression de tristesse qui 
m'avoit frappee en le voyant, mais qui devoit etre 
effacee par I'amour et son frere. Si la soiree qu'il a 
passe chez moi pouvoit se renouveler, je ferais taire la 
harpe, et j'empecherais un groupe d'emigresde s'em- 
parer de lui, et de me priver du plaisir de Pentendre. 
Quant a son merite personnel, a ses lumieres, a ses 
vertus, ils sont evidemment prouves par les sentimens 
qu'il a su inspirer a Norbury. 

" Mais a propos de gens distingues il faut vous 
parler, ma chere madarae, de nos deux jeunes Princes. 
Celui dont vous faites mention estle plus joli, le plus 
gai, le plus caressant de tous les heros de dix-neuf 
ans.* Comme une blessure sied bien a cet age ! Je 
Pai vu soufFrir des siennes, mais il me semble qu'il en 
jouissait. Le Prince Augustef est moins vif, et nulle- 
ment bruyant ; une affabilite douce rappelle qu'il est 
le frere cheri de la Princesse Elizabeth, et s'il n'a pu 
exercer ce courage militaire qui fait les heros de Phis- 
torie, on sait qu'il a prouve une fermete admirable 
dans le cours de ses longues soufFrances ; et Rousseau 
pretend que les vertus negatives sont les plus sublimes. 

*' Notre philosophe,! pour se consoler du present, 
s'occupe beaucoup du passe, et d'une histoire de la 
terre bien plus ancienne que celle de Moyse. Perdant 
de vue pour un temps les revolutions qui agitent la 
surface de notre globe, il s'enfonce dans de profondes 
meditations, pour rechercher ce qu'etait Pinterieur 
avant, bien avant, que le genre humain habitat cette 



Duke of Cambridge. f Duke of Sussex. $ M. de Luc. 



136 MEMOIRS OF 

planete. ' What are you about V lui deraandait quel- 
qu'un : ' I am in the bowels of the earth,' fut sa re- 
ponse. Madame de Luc vous aime toujours tendre- 
ment, ma chere madame ; mais elle est moins que 
jamais en etat d'ecrire, ses yeux ayant beaucoup souf- 
fert depuis quelques mois. Mon his sera bien sensible 
au souvenir dont vous I'honorez ; j'ignore si dans ce 
moment il traverse la mer, ou s'il est arrive en Hoi- 
lande. It est toujours compte parmi les bons his, et 
c'est a lui que je dois en partie le retour de ma sante. 
Celle de Madame Schw^ellenberg est toujours eton- 
nante ; c'est apres un crachement de sang qu'elle a 
repris ses forces. 

" Vous auriez peine, madame, a reconnoitre Frog- 
more. On y construit des mines, et bientot on aura 
acheve un vieux batiment gothique; ici s'eleve un 
petit temple octogone, dont le plafond est dessine par 
la Princesse Elizabeth ; la on decouvre un hermitage, 
dont elle a donne le modele, &c., &c., : au reste, nous 
avons un spectacle et des acteurs de Londres. Quick, 
surtout y attirait la cour et la ville. Madame de la 
Roche me demande toujours des nouvelles de Miss Bur- 
ney ; je lui ai marque depuis peu que parmi nos fem- 
mes celebres il n'en est pas une qui porte ce mon ; 
mais pour qu'elle ne soupgonnat point que vous avez 
perdu la vie, ou moi I'esprit, j'ai bien vite ajoute que 
les, sentimens dus a I'auteur de ' Cecilia ' etaient main- 
tenant reserves a Madar^e d'Arblay. 

" J'espere que les det^oirs de votre nouvel etat ne 
vous empecheront pas d'l cquerir denouveaux droits a 
la reconnoissance du public ; c'est un de mes vceux ; 
mais je souhaite bien plus encore que vous sachiez 
toujours reunir ce qui est si souvent separe — la cele- 
brite et le bonheur. Madame Brulard* habite dans 
un petit canton de la Suisse, ou elle a ete admise, 
ainsi que Mile. d'Orleans, sous un nom suppose. 

* Madame de 'Genlis. 



MADAME d'aRBLAY. 137 

Adieu, ma chere madame ! veuillez me continuer le 
souvenir et la bienveillance dont vous m'honorez, et 
agreer P assurance de la haute estime et du tendre 
attachement de 

" Votre tres devouee, 

" M. E. DE LA FiTE. 

" Vous connaissez mes sentimens pour les habitans 
de Norbury ; daignez en etre I'interprete. Je crains 
de ne pouvoir profiter cette annee de votre aimable 
hospitalite, mais je vous conjure d'avance dem'accor- 
der une soiree quand vous viendrez a Londres." 



CHAPTER IX. 

Madame d'Arblay's residence at Bookham — Domestic felicity— =• 
Birth of a Son — The French Clergy — Madame d'Arblay's Ad- 
dress — Tragedy of " Edwy and Elgiva" — Publication ofOamil' 
la"—'' The Camilla Cottage"—'' The Breakfast Table"— Death 
of Mrs. Burney — Sudden death of Mrs. Phillips — Madame d'Ar- 
blay's yearly commemoration of the day of her sister's Death- 
General d'Arblay's proposed departure lor St. Domingo — His in- 
discreet letter to Napoleon — Commission annulled— Madame d'- 
Arblay joins her husband in France — War — Return to England af- 
ter ten years' absence — Death of Dr. Burney — Publication of " The 
Wanderer" — Death of General d'Arblay — Madame d'Arblay's in- 
terview with Sir Walter Scott — Anecdote — Death of Madame d'- 
Arblay's only son — Death of Madame d'Arblay in her 88th year. 

The annexed sketch by Mrs. Elwood, contains an 
account of all the most interesting incidents of Miss 
Burney's married life. 

The newly-married pair immediately settled down 
quietly at Bookham in Surrey, where, in their do- 
mestic and fire-side enjoyment, they found the utmost 
felicity, which was afterwards increased by the birth 
of a son, the late Reverend Alexander Charles Louis 
d'Arblay, who died before his mother in January, 
1837, after having been fellow of Christ College, 
2 m* 



138 MEMOIRS Of 

Cambridge, and perpetual Curate of Camden ToWn 
Chapel. 

Mrs. Crewe, the daughter of Dr. Burney's early 
friend, Mr. Greville, interesting herself greatly in the 
fate of the French clergy, of whom she had, at East 
Bourne, seen a great number wandering about in ban-» 
ishment and beggary, about this time, benevolently 
set on foot a plan for the amelioration of their condi- 
tion, and Madame d'Arblay's pen was called upon 
to assist in the project. " The Address the Ladies of 
Great Britain in favour of the Emigrant Priests," to- 
gether with " Brief Reflections relative to the Emi- 
grant Clergy," were accordingly written by her, and 
the profits arising from their sale were assigned to 
their benefit. 

In 1795, a tragedy, entitled " Edwy and Elgiva,'* 
of Madame d'Arblay's composition, w-as brought 
out at Drury Lane Theatre, but was never subse* 
quently published. 

Madame d'Arblay now found herself obliged to 
exert her abilities for the benefit of her own immedi- 
ate family, their pecuniary means being small, chiefly 
indeed conBned to the 100/. per annum which the 
Queen assigned to her on quitting her situation at 
Windsor, and which she enjoyed for the rest of her life. 

Accordingly, in 1796, was published by subscrip- 
tion, " Camilla, or a Picture of Youth," in five vol- 
umes. For this work she received three thousand 
guineas. 

Though a pleasing and interesting work, and one 
which was extremely admired at the time of its pub- 
lication, " Camilla" can scarcely be considered as 
equal to Madame d'Arblay's more juvenile perform- 
ances of " Evelina" and " Cecilia," nor indeed was it 
ever, perhaps, quite so popular as its predecessors, 
though much more profitable to the writer. 

Shortly afterwards, with the money arising from 
the sale of" Camilla," the d'Arblays built a small cot- 



MADAME d'ARBLAY* l39 

tage on a spot adjoining Norbury Park, according to 
a plan of General d'Arblay. It was called jokingly 
" Camilla Cottage," by Dr. Burney, but this name was 
afterwards generally adopted for it by their friends* 
In this pleasing retirement the d'Arblays spent some 
years previous to their leaving England for the Con- 
tinent. 

After the publication of Camilla, Mrs. Crewe was 
extremely anxious that Madame d'Arblay should un- 
dertake the management of a periodical paper, to be 
entitled " The Breakfast Table," in which she thought, 
by persiflage and ridicule, the Jacobinism of the day 
might be discountenanced. But the peculiar situa- 
tion of her husband, with other circumstances, r:?n- 
dered this undertaking inexpedient, and she declined 
it ; and the project, though it was to have been sup- 
ported by Canning, Wyndham, and other distinguish- 
ed persons, ultimaiely fell to the ground. 

In October of this year, Dr. Burney lost his se- 
cond wife. By her, he had one so;!, Richard Thomas, 
who subsequently died in the East Indies, leaving a 
large family, and a daughter, Sarah Harriet, the au-* 
thoress of several pleasing novels, &c. 

On the 6th of January, 1800, at Park Gate, 
whilst on the road to visit Chelsea College, died the 
third daughter of Dr. Burney, Susanna, Mrs. Phillips, 
who had long been in a declining state of health, to 
the great grief of all her friends, but, in particular, of 
her sister, Madame d'Arblay, who, till the year 1813, 
regularly devoted the anniversary of her death to me- 
ditative commemoration ; but at the exhortation of 
her father, she was subsequently induced to abandon 
this indulgence of morbid sensibility. 

In 1802, at the peace of Amiens, the ministei' 
plenipotentiary sent over by Bonaparte chanced to bd 
General LaUriston, a descendant of the famous Mis* 
sissippi Law, and an old friend of General d'Arblay, 
who joyfully received his former comrade againj 



140 MEMOIRS OF 

whom he had thought mingled with the slaughtered 
on the 10th of August. Through his mediation, a let- 
ter was conveyed to Berthier, then minister of war at 
Paris, and it was arranged, that on condition of Gen- 
eral d'Arblay's serving a year in the Island of St. 
Domingo with General Le Clerc, the first husband of 
Napoleon's sister Pauline, he should be allowed to 
retue from the service with rank and promotion. 

General d'Arblay, who had gone over to Paris 
on this occasion, having obtained leave to return to 
England to take leave of his wife and son, and to 
make arrangements for his departure to St. Domingo, 
wrote from thence a candid but somewhat indiscreet 
letter to Napoleon, in which he signified his intention 
never to bear arms against the country of his wife, af- 
ter which he embarked for France, in February, 1802. 
The consequences were, that his commission was an- 
nulled, much to his annoyance, though to the joy of 
Madame d'Arblay, who contemplated with dismay 
his expedition to so unhealthy a climate as St. Do- 
mingo. Notwithstanding his displeasure, the Empe- 
ror, however, carried his resentment no farther than 
the saying to Lafayette, who interceded for him, 
" II m'a ecrit un diable de lettre !" but stopping with a 
smile, half gay, half cynical, he continued, " However, 
I ought only to regard in it the husband of Cecilia !" 

General d'Arblay determined to remain at least 
a twelvemonth in France, in order to evince his readi- 
ness to serve, in case of any change of mind on the 
part of the Emperor ; and he therefore desired to be 
joined by his wife and son, intending, at the end of 
the year, to return to his quiet seclusion at West Ham- 
ble. Madame d'Arblay, therefore, left England in 
April, 1802, having first had the honour of a parting 
interview with their Majesties, who entirely appro- 
ved of her following the fortunes of the man to whom 
she had given her hand. 

In the mean time war broke forth again ; and 



141 

the d'Arblays were compelled to remain in France, 
where the next ten years of their life were spent. — 
Madame d'Arblay's correspondence with her family 
was now necessarily curtailed, and became both un- 
certain and unfrequent. Their letters by post were 
unsealed, and those by private hands undirected, their 
contents, of course, being brief and unsatisfactory, on 
account of Madame d'Arblay's fear of compromising 
her husband's safety. 

In 1812, whilst the Emperor Napoleon was ab- 
sent in Russia, General d'Arblay with difficulty pro- 
cured a passport for his wife and son to leave France, 
which, had Napoleon been there, would have been 
utterly impossible. After six weeks' detention at 
Dunkirk, they were landed at Deal from an American 
vessel, which was captured, though, as English, they 
were immediately set at liberty. 

However rejoiced Madame d'Arblay would nat- 
urally feel at returning to her native land, she had, 
notwithstanding the peculiarity of her situation, been 
both cordially received, and treated with a warmth of 
friendship in France, that did credit to the heads and 
hearts of those who became acquainted with her. She 
also formed intimacies with a chosen few, among 
whom Madame de Maisoneuve is particularly specifi- 
ed by her, as her " faithful, chosen, and tender friend." 

Twelve years had naturally wrought their usual 
changes in her family, and Madame d'Arblay found 
her father, grown old and feeble, still residing in his 
apartments in Chelsea College, which, indeed, he now 
never quitted. Her eldest brother had just completed 
his " General History of Voyages to the South Sea ;" 
her second, was considered to be the third best Greek 
scholar in the kingdom, Porson and Parr being alone 
his superiors ; whilst her sisters, Mrs. Burney and Mrs. 
Broome, were surrounded by blooming young fami- 
lies ; and her half-sister, Sarah Harriet, was rising in 
reputation as a novel writer. 



142 MEMOIRS OF 

On the 12th of Apail, 1814, the day succeeding a 
general illumination in honour of the glorious victory 
of England and her allies over the Emperor Napo- 
leon, Dr. Burney, in his eighty-seventh year, breathed 
his last ; his affectionate daughter, Madame d'Ar- 
blay, being by his side, where she had remained during 
the whole of the preceding night ; while rockets and 
distant fire-works were illuminating the sky, and pre- 
senting a singular contrast to the chamber of sick- 
ness and death. 

In the same year appeared " The Wanderer," by 
Madame d'Arblay, a novel in five volumes, founded 
on incidents arising partly out of the French Revolu- 
tion, the notes of which she took with her to France 
when she quitted England, in 1802. For the copy- 
right of this work she received 1,500/. ; but whether 
the taste of the public was altered, or that her magic 
pen had lost its virtue in a foreign land, this work cer- 
tainly never attained to the popularity of her prece- 
ding publications. 

On the 3rd of May, 1818, Madame d'Arblay had 
the misfortune to lose her husband. General d'Arblay, 
who died at Bath. He was a general in the French 
service, and had been made one of the Legion of Hon- 
our by Louis XVIIL He originally came over to 
England in the early part of the French Revolution 
with Talleyrand, Lally Tollendal, and other distin- 
guished French ei! 'grants. 

In 1826, Mau^ine d'Arblay had an interview 
with Sir Walter Scott, and the following is an ac- 
count given of it by himself, in his interesting Diary, 
1826, November 18 : — " Was introduced by Rogers 
to Madame d'Arblay. the celebrated authoress of 
" Evelina" and " Cecilia ;" an elderly lady, with no 
remains of beauty, but with a simple and gentle man- 
ner, a pleasing expression of countenance, and appa- 
rently quiet feelings. She told me she had wished to 



MADAIVIE DARBLAY. 143 

see two persons — myself, of course, being one, the 
other George Canning. 

" Madame d'Arblay told us that the common story 
of Dr. Barney, her father, having brought home her 
own first work, and recommended it to her perusal, 
was erroneous. Her father was in the secret of ' Eve- 
lina' being printed. But the following circumstance 
may have given rise to the story : — * Dr. Buiney was 
at Streotham soon after the publication, where he 
found Mrs. Thrale recovering from her confinement, 
low at the moment, and out of spirits. While they 
were talking together, Johnson, who sat beside in a 
kind of reverie, suddenly broke out, ' You should read 
this new work, madam — you should read ^ Evelina ;' 
every one says it is excellent, and they are right.'* — 
The delighted father obtained a commission from Mrs. 
Thrale to purchase his daughter's work, and retired 
the happiest of men. Madame d'Arblay said she 
Avas wild with joy at this decisive evidence of her lit- 
erary success, and that she could only give vent to 
her rapture by dancing and skipping round a mul- 
berry-tree in the garden. Siie was very young at 
this time. I trust I shall see this lady again." 

In 1832, Madame d'Arblay published the memoirs 
of her father, in three volumes, arranged from his 
own manuscripts, from family p-*; 'rs, and from per- 
sonal recollections. 

After the death of her son, w^hieh took place in 
1837, Madame d'Arblay withdrew almost entirely 
from general society, admitting none but relations and 
intimate frieds. Notwithstanding her advanced age, 

* This account does not correspond with that given hy Madame 
d'Arblay, in her " Diary," &c. now in the course of puolieatioH. — 
She there states that '' Evehna" was first read by Dr Jolmson, at the 
recommendation of Mrs. Thrale. Of course the latter version is the 
correct one. But we allow the other to stand, as a literary curiosi- 
ty, professing, as it does, to be reported from the lips of the ladv 
herself J and by so celebrated a person as " the author of Waverly." 



144 

however, her conversational powers and her faculties 
remained unimpaired till within a short time of her 
decease, which took place in her house in Lower 
Grosvenor-street, on the 6th of January, 1840, in her 
eighty-eighth year. Her remains were deposited, by 
her own express desire, in Walcot Churchyard, in 
Bath, near those of her husband. General d'Arblay, 
and her only son, Alexander Charles Louis d'Arblay, 
It may be observed, in conclusion, that Madame 
d'Arblay's productions were among the first of their 
class possessing merit and popularity, which might 
unhesitatingly be placed in the hands of youth ; and 
though not professedly writing for the instruction of 
her readers, she, at all times and in all places, advo- 
cates and advances the cause of religion, morality, 
and good principles ; and notwithstanding her under- 
going that greatest of trials to the sobriety of the 
mind, a sudden transition from obscurity to fame and 
celebrity, yet did she never fail steadily to fulfil her 
social duties in a most exemplary manner : she was a 
dutiful daughter, an affectionate sister, a devoted wife, 
and a faithful friend. 

WORKS, 

Evelina ; or, the History of a Young Lady's First 
Introduction to the World, 1778. 
j Cecilia ; or. Memoirs of an Heiress, 1781. 
' Camilla ; or, a Picture of Youth, 1796. 

Address to the Ladies of Great Britain, &c. 

Brief Reflections relative to the Emigrant Clergy, 
1795. - /fi*'-.- .!^ 

The Wanderer, 1814. ^' '^ ^ 

Memoirs of Dr» Burney, 1832. 

Diary and Letters, edited by her Niece, 1842. 



THE END, 



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